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BV  4832  .M365  1901  j 
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Times  of  retirement 


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Times  of  Retirement 


Times  of  Retirement 

Devotional   Meditations 


BY 

GEORGE  MATHESON,  M.A.,  D.D.,  F.R.S.E. 

AUTHOR  OF 

'^Moments  on  the  Mount;'  '^Voices  of  the  Spirit,''  Etc. 


WITH  A  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 
OF  THE  AUTHOR 

By  the  Rev.  D.  MacMillan 


NEW  YORK  CHFCAGO  TORONTO 

FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 
1901 


Copyright  iqoi 

BY 

FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 
(September) 


Press  of 

Riggs  Printing  &=  Publishing  Co. 

Albany,  N.   Y. 


Preface 

AT  the  request  of  many  I  have  collected 
these  fugitive  devotional  pieces  which 
at   stray  moments   I   have  been  con- 
tributing to  an  organ  of  the  Church  of  Scotland 
— "  Saint  Andrew."  They  have  been  the  diver- 
sion from  sustained  work,  and  in  no  other  light 
do  I  offer  them.     Yet  there  are  some  who  can- 
not study  sustained  work;  they  have  not  leisure 
enough  or  they  have  not  health  enough.     For 
such,  truth  must  come  ''in  a  moment,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye."     Any  one  of  these  med- 
itations can  be  read  in  three  minutes;   yet  three 
minutes  may  influence  a  whole  day.     Accord- 
ingly, I  have  consented  to  give  them  collective 
form.     They  will  not  all  appeal  equally  to  every 
mood  of  mind.     Where  one  does  not  appeal, 
lay  it  aside,  but  do  not  throw  it  away;  what  is 
not  your  message  to-day  may  be  your  message 
to-morrow.     It  is  often  said  that  devotion  is  a 
thing  of  the  heart.     I  do  not  think  it  is  either 
5 


6  PREFACE 

merely  or  mainly  so.  I  hold  that  all  emotion 
is  based  upon  intellectual  conviction.  Even 
your  sense  of  natural  beauty  is  so  based. 
Whence  comes  that  joy  with  which  you  gaze 
on  a  bit  of  landscape  you  call  "  a  picture- 
scene  "  ?  Precisely  from  your  intellectual  con- 
viction that  it  is  not  a  picture;  if  you  believed 
it  to  be  a  painting,  your  emotion  would  die 
altogether.  A  man  may  have  faith  in  what  he 
does  not  understand,  but  he  cannot  have  emo- 
tion in  what  he  does  not  understand.  The 
heart  must  have  a  theory  for  its  own  music. 
Therefore  the  devotional  writer  must  have  a 
message  as  much  as  the  expositor.  Devotion 
must  be  the  child  of  reflection;  it  may  rise  on 
wings,  but  they  must  be  the  wings  of  thought. 
The  meditations  of  this  little  book  will  appeal  to 
the  instinct  of  prayer  just  in  proportion  as  they 
appeal  to  the  teachings  of  experience;  there- 
fore, before  all  things,  I  have  endeavoured  to 
base  the  feelings  of  the  heart  on  the  conclusions 
of  the  mind. 

G.  M. 
Edinburgh,  1901. 


Rev,  George  Matheson,  D.D. 

*A  Biographical  Sketch  by  the  Rev.    D.    MacMillan, 
M.A.,  Editor  of '«  Saint  Andrew." 

GEORGE  MATHESON  was  born  just 
a  year  before  the  great  Disruption 
took  place  in  that  Church  which  he 
was  afterwards  destined  to  adorn;  and  though 
the  period  from  then  till  now  is  as  historians 
measure  time  comparatively  brief,  a  change 
has  come  over  the  face  of  ecclesiastical  Scot- 
land which  is  as  striking  as  it  is  hopeful. 
1843  saw  the  formation  of  the  Free  Church 
through  secession  from  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land, and  1900  saw  the  creation  of  the  United 
Free  Church  by  a  union  of  the  Free  and  United 
Presbyterian  Churches.  The  larger  visible 
union  which  some  dream  of,  may  be  in  the  dis- 
tant future;  still,  a  kindlier  spirit  prevails,  and 
♦  Prepared  at  the  special  request  of  the  publishers. 
7 


8  GEORGE  MATHESON 

a  recognition  of  the  invisible  bonds  which 
make  all  Christians  one,  may  be  declared  to  be 
the  chief  religious  feature  of  the  time.  So 
far  Dr.  Matheson  has  not  lived  in  vain,  for 
though  seldom  if  ever  taking  part  in  the  pro- 
ceedings of  Church  courts,  or  enacting  in  any 
way  the  role  of  the  ecclesiastic,  he  has  ever 
striven  to  discover  those  deeper  springs  of 
religious  thought  and  feeling  which  are  com- 
mon to  all  and  which  explain  and  reconcile  the 
outward  differences.  It  is  the  Christian 
thinker  who  sows  the  seeds  of  those  move- 
ments which  in  due  time  take  visible  shape  in 
the  Church;  and  within  recent  years  no  one  by 
voice  or  pen  has  done  more  than  has  the  sub- 
ject of  the  present  memoir  to  discover  those 
elements  of  the  spiritual  life  which  lie  beneath 
creeds  and  forms  of  church  government,  and 
which  make  all  believing  hearts  one. 

Dr.  Matheson  was  born  in  Glasgow  on 
March  27,  1842.  He  was  fortunate  in  his 
place  of  birth.  There  is  no  city  in  the  United 
Kingdom,  probably  no  city  in  the  Empire, 
which  during  the  Victorian  era  made  such 
rapid  strides  as  Glasgow.     The  enterprise  of 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH        9 

its  merchants  and  the  energy  of  its  municipal 
rulers  have  become  a  proverb.  In  population, 
size  and  wealth  its  progress  for  a  European 
city  has  been  almost  phenomenal.  It  has  its 
feet,  however,  firmly  planted  on  the  historic 
past.  Its  Cathedral  dates  from  the  dawn  of 
the  middle  ages,  and  its  University  from  be- 
fore the  Reformation.  Hence  it  possesses  the 
two  elements  which  are  conducive  to  true  de- 
velopment— love  of  the  past  and  hope  for  the 
future,  a  freedom  which  is  restrained  from 
running  into  license,  and  a  conservatism  which 
is  saved  from  obscurantism.  One  can  readily 
understand  the  influence  which  such  a  city 
would  have  upon  the  mental  growth  of  a  young 
man  of  Matheson's  temperament.  Keenly 
susceptible  to  outward  impressions  and  intel- 
lectually alive  to  the  spirit  of  the  times,  he 
must  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  life  have  been 
greatly  moulded  by  his  environment.  It  can- 
not accordingly  be  accounted  an  accident  that 
we  find  in  his  writings  the  same  boldness  of 
thought  and  eager  breaking  of  fresh  ground, 
which  characterise  his  native  city  in  its  com- 
mercial and  municipal  enterprises,  along  with 


lo  GEORGE  MATHESON 

a  reverence  for  tradition  which  gives  to  each 
landmark  its  true  place  in  human  development. 

Dr.  Matheson  was  also  fortunate  in  his  par- 
entage. He  has  sprung  from  those  in  whom 
were  combined  the  best  features  of  the  national 
life.  He  has  in  his  veins  the  blood  of  the  Celtic 
Highlander  and  the  Lowland  Scot.  It  is  to 
this  union  in  his  nature  we  must  look  for  that 
happy  blending  of  imagination  and  reason 
which  gives  to  his  writings  their  peculiar 
power,  and  to  his  preaching  that  touch  of  in- 
sight and  persuasive  eloquence  which  is  its 
special  charm. 

Dr.  Matheson's  parents,  at  the  time  of  his 
birth,  resided  at  39  Abbottsford  Place,  on  the 
south  side  of  the  river.  The  district  was  then 
regarded  as  most  desirable  for  residential  pur- 
poses. It  has,  however,  been  subjected  to  the 
changes  which  have  affected  Glasgow  since 
that  period.  The  houses  are  still  considered 
good,  but  the  needs  of  an  ever  growing  com- 
merce have  compelled  those  who  desire  quiet 
and  purer  air  to  live  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city 
or  in  one  of  the  many  suburbs  that  have  sprung 
up  during  the  last  half-century.     Dr.   Mathe- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       ii 

son's  father — the  founder  of  the  well-known 
firm  of  Wilson,  Matheson  &  Co.,  was  in  good, 
and  latterly  in  affluent  circumstances,  and  so 
was  able  to  give  his  son  the  best  education  that 
Glasgow    could    offer.     He    accordingly    sent 
him  to  the  Academy,  which  was  then  situated 
in  Elmbank  street,  the  buildings  being  the  same 
as   those   in   which   the   High    School   is   now 
housed.     There  young  Matheson  had  a  bril- 
liant career.     He  carried  off  the  first  prize  in 
every  department.     It  now  became  evident  that 
the  young  scholar  was  destined  for  a  profes- 
sional   career,    and    that    career    the    Church. 
The    intellectual    ability,    literary    aspirations 
and  oratorical    gifts    and    love    for  preaching 
which  he  had  already  developed  pointed  to  this 
course  as  the  only  possible  one.     Accordingly 
in  1859  he  matriculated  as  a  student  in  Glas- 
gow   University.      The    Scottish    universities 
have  always  occupied  an  honourable  position 
in  the  educational  world.     They  are  of  ancient 
origin,  and  though  for  many  generations  they 
had  to  struggle  for  their  very  existence,  they 
have  ever  striven  to  keep  pace  with  the  intel- 
lectual   need    of    the    country,    and    through 


12  GEORGE  MATHESON 

them  Scotland  has,  in  proportion  to  its  popu- 
lation, probably  sent  into  the  professions  and 
public  life  more  successful  and  noted  men 
than  any  other  constituent  portion  of  the 
Kingdom  or  Empire.  They  have  never  been 
without  distinguished  teachers  in  one  or  more 
of  the  departments  of  study — the  advantages 
which  they  offer  drawing  to  them  some  of  the 
ablest  and  most  scholarly  men  in  the  United 
Kingdom. 

When  Dr.  Matheson  became  a  student  the 
University  was  situated  in  High  street.  It 
was  not  a  building  without  striking  features, 
as  is  testified  by  the  gateway— the  only  portion 
remaining— at  the  entrance  to  the  magnificent 
new  buildings  on  Gilmorehill.  The  site  of 
the  old  college  is  now  occupied  by  a  large 
railway  depot,  and  hardly  a  sign  of  the  ancient 
walls  remains.  During  his  career  as  a  student 
he  had  the  good  fortune  to  receive  instruction 
at  the  hands  of  several  noted  men.  William 
Ramsay  was  professor  of  Latin,  Edmund  Law 
Lushington  of  Greek,  Robert  Buchanan  of 
Logic,  and  Lord  Kelvin  of  Natural  Philosophy. 
Young    'Matheson    took    a    leading    part    in 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       13 

classics,  and  carried  off  everything  in  logic 
and  philosophy.  It  was  at  this  period  that  he 
gave  the  first  proofs  of  that  pre-eminence  in 
speculative  thought  which  has  since  distin- 
guished him.  Glasgow  had  had  a  succession 
of  able  men  in  that  department  of  study,  and 
from  the  days  of  Francis  Hutcheson  had  been 
famous  for  its  philosophical  eminence.  It  was 
to  receive  additional  lustre  a  few  years  later 
when  Edward  Caird  became  professor  of 
Moral  Philosophy;  but  Robert  Buchanan  was 
no  unworthy  successor  of  Adam  Smith.,  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  he  stimulated  young  Matheson's 
ardour  in  pursuit  of  his  favourite  study,  with 
the  happy  result  that  the  pupil  took  the  first 
prize  in  the  senior  division  of  the  Logic  class, 
and  gained  a  similar  honour  for  an  essay  on 
the  best  specimen  of  Socratic  Dialogue.  He 
was  first  prizeman  also  in  the  Moral  Phil- 
osophy class,  and  graduated  in  1862  with  hon- 
ours in  Philosophy.  It  was  about  this  time 
that  a  calamity  which  would  have  daunted 
most  men  befel  him.  At  the  age  of  twenty 
he  became  practically  blind.  When  only  eigh- 
teen months  old  his  sight  began  to  be  affected 


14  GEORGE  MATHESON 

by  internal  inflammation,  which  recurring  in- 
termittently, finally  destroyed  it.     During  the 
gradual  decline  he  was  able  with  his  own  eyes 
to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  Latin,  Greek,  French 
and  German,  and  to  learn  penmanship.     The 
foundation  of  his  wide  scholarship  was  thus 
providentially  laid.    Quite  undismayed  by  what 
to  the  vast  majority  of  men  would  have  proved 
a  fatal  misfortune  Dr.   Matheson  determined 
to  proceed  with  his  studies,  and  so  he  entered 
the  Divinity  Hall  in  the  autumn  of  1862.    This 
was  Dr.  John  Caird's  first  session  as  professor 
of  Systematic  Theology  in  Glasgow  Univer- 
sity.   Caird  began  his  new  duties  with  the  repu- 
tation of  being  the  most  popular  preacher  in 
Scotland.     Many  were  doubtful  as  to  his  quali- 
fications for  a  post  which  demanded  thought 
and   scholarship   rather    than    eloquence.      He 
soon  dispelled    all    doubts.      During    the  later 
part  of  his  ministerial  life  his  mind  had  been 
turned  towards  the  fresh  movements  in  phil- 
osophy and  theology  which  had  recently  taken 
place  in  Germany,  and  which  were  beginning  to 
affect  the  trend  of  thought  on  these  subjects 
in    this    country.     For    generations,    Scottish 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       15 

students  had  been  accustomed  to  receive  from 
their  professors  a  course  in  systematic  theology 
purely  on  Calvinistic  Hues.  The  high-water- 
mark of  this  form  of  teaching  can  be  seen  in 
Principal  Hill's  Lectures  on  Divinity,  pub- 
lished in  1833  by  his  son,  Dr.  Alexander  Hill, 
Caird's  immediate  predecessor.  However  well 
suited  for  former  generations,  it  was  becoming 
daily  more  evident  that  the  old  method  of 
treatment  could  not  meet  the  wants  of  the  new 
race  of  students.  The  deeper  religious  and 
intellectual  needs  of  the  times  could  not  be  sat- 
isfied by  a  formal  and,  in  the  main,  scholastic 
handling  of  theology.  Hence  Caird,  with  his 
larger  outlook,  his  greater  breadth  and  free- 
dom of  spirit,  his  fresh  standpoint  and  his 
knowledge  of  and  sympathy  with  the  current 
movements  of  European  thought,  put  a  new 
face  on  Scottish  theology,  and  inspired  young 
Matheson  with  a  love  for  the  speculative  side 
of  religion  which  has  characterised  him  ever 
since.  Associated  with  Dr.  Caird  in  the  Di- 
vinity Faculty  were  Drs.  Jackson,  Weir  and 
Dickson,  professors  of  Church  History,  He- 
brew    and     Biblical     Criticism     respectively. 


i6  GEORGE  MATHESON 

Matheson's  career  in  Theology  was  quite  as 
distinguished  as  in  Arts.  He  graduated  as  a 
Bachelor  of  Divinity  in  1866,  and  in  the  same 
year  he  was  licensed  by  the  Presbytery  of  Glas- 
gow as  a  probationer  of  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land. 

So  far  all  had  been  well.  The  bright  lad, 
the  promising  scholar,  had  received  and  taken 
advantage  of  the  best  education  that  his  native 
land  could  supply.  Anticipating  as  it  were 
the  final  results  of  the  physical  calamity  that 
from  his  earliest  years  affected  him,  he  took 
time  by  the  forelock  and  packed  into  school 
and  college  days  all  the  learning  that  great 
ability  and  incessant  application  could  acquire. 
He  left  the  University  the  most  brilliant  stu- 
dent of  his  time,  but  what  would  this  avail  him 
in  the  arduous  task  that  now  lay  before  him 
of  proving  himself  able  to  discharge  the  duties 
of  a  profession  which  demands  for  success  not 
only  mental  endowments  of  no  mean  order, 
but  the  possession,  unimpaired,  of  all  one's 
physical  organs  ?  That  was  the  question  which 
the  young  minister  had  now  to  answer,  and 
though  he  had  never  done  anything  more  in 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       17 

answering  it  than  by  securing  an  appointment 
through  popular  election  to  a  parish,  and  dis- 
charging with  credit  the  duties  of  his  office,  he 
would  deserve  to  be  remembered  as  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  men  of  his  day.  But  Dr. 
Matheson  has  done  that  and  much  more.  He 
has  by  his  great  gifts  as  a  preacher  and  writer 
ranked  himself  among  the  most  eminent  men  of 
the  time. 

In  1867,  six  months  after  license,  he  was 
appointed  assistant  to  Rev.  Dr.  MacDuff, 
of  Sandyford  Church,  Glassi^ow,  and  in  the 
following  year  he  was  chosen,  by  popular  elec- 
tion,  minister   of   Innellan.      He   declined,    in 

1880,  a  unanimous  call  to  succeed  Dr.  Cum- 
ming,  London.     He    was    Baird    Lecturer  in 

1 88 1,  and  one  of  the  St.  Giles'  lecturers  for 

1882,  and  in  1879  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh conferred  on  him  the  honorary  degree 
of  D.D.  In  1886  he  was  translated  to  the 
Parish  of  St.  Bernard's,  Edinburgh,  which  he 
resigned  two  years  ago  owing  to  increasing 
literary  work.  He  was  offered  the  Gifford 
Lectureship  in  the  University  of  Aberdeen  for 
1 900- 1  and  1 90 1 -2,  but  declined;  and  in  1890  he 


i8  GEORGE  MATHESON 

was  elected  a  fellow  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Ed- 
inburgh. Dr.  Matheson's  career  as  an  author 
began  in  1874,  when  he  was  in  his  thirty-second 
year.  It  was  then  he  pubhshed  anonymously 
his  first  book  *'  Aids  to  the  Study  of  German 
Theology."  It  soon  reached  a  third  edition, 
the  second  appearing  with  the  author's  name 
on  the  title  page.  From  then  until  the  autumn 
of  last  year,  when  the  second  volume  of  his 
latest  book  "  Studies  of  the  Portrait  of 
Christ "  appeared,  he  has  published  altogether 
something  like  twenty  volumes,  besides  numer- 
ous articles  in  the  leading  reviews  and  maga- 
zines, both  in  this  country  and  in  America. 
Several  of  his  works  have  been  translated  into 
other  languages:  *' My  Aspirations,"  and 
"  Words  by  the  Wayside,"  two  devotional 
volumes,  into  German;  his  article  in  the  Con- 
temporary Review  on  ''  The  Originality  of  the 
Character  of  Christ  "  into  French;  his  ''  Stud- 
ies of  the  Portrait  of  Christ"  into  Chinese. 
For  the  use  of  his  famous  hymn,  beginning 
"  O  Love  that  wilt  not  let  me  go,"  contributed 
to  the  revised  edition  of  the  "  Scottish  Hym- 
nal," he  has  received  application  from  all  parts 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       19 

of  the  world.     The  mere  recital  of  these  facts 
appeals  to  the  imagination.    It  tells  of  constant 
steady  labour,  which  only  the  few  have  been 
able  to  equal;  but  when  we  reflect  that  Dr. 
Matheson  has  nearly  all  his  life  been  partially 
and  since  his   twentieth  year  has   been  prac- 
tically blind,   even  imagination   is  quite  inca- 
pable of  grasping  the  facts !     We  can  readily 
understand  the  strong  desire  of  Queen  Victoria 
to  see  and  hear  this  remarkable  subject  of  hers. 
It  was  in  1885,  while  he  was  still  at  Innellan, 
that  she  summoned  him  to  preach  before  her 
at  Balmoral.     The  Queen  was  extremely  de- 
lighted with  his  sermon,  gave  him  an  inter- 
view, spoke  of  his  devotional  works  which  she 
had  read,  presented  him  with  a  small  bust  of 
herself,  asked  for  a  copy  of  his  sermon  and  in 
parting  said:    ''Your  life  has  been  a  sorely 
tried,  but  a  very  beautiful  one." 

Like  most  great  preachers  Dr.  Matheson  at- 
tained distinction  at  a  bound.  From  the  very 
first  he  drew  the  eyes  of  men  to  him,  and  his 
hold  on  the  public  mind  and  heart  has  been 
steadily  strengthening.  Since  the  death  of 
Principal  Caird  he  has  been  the  greatest  Scot- 


20  GEORGE  MATHESON 

tish  preacher,  and  this  we  say  not  because  of  the 
vast  crowds  which  assemble  to  hear  him  but 
because  of  the  message  which  he  brings  and  the 
manner  in  which  he  deHvers  it.  In  these  we 
have  the  measure  of  the  preacher's  mind  and 
the  power  of  his  personality,  and  they  combine 
in  him,  as  in  every  commanding  orator,  to  give 
him  his  unique  position. 

The  congregation  of  Sandyford  Church, 
where  he  began  his  ministerial  career,  was  one 
of  the  largest  and  most  cultured  in  the  West 
End  of  Glasgow.  Dr.  MacDuff,  its  minister, 
had  some  misgivings  about  young  Matheson's 
choice  of  a  profession.  He  asked  him,  however, 
for  a  sermon;  and  so  delighted  was  he  that  he 
appointed  him  his  assistant  next  day.  But  it 
was  at  Innellan  that  the  rising  preacher  reached 
his  full  powers  and  established  his  reputation. 

Situated  on  the  shores  of  the  Firth  of  Clyde 
midway  between  Greenock  and  Rothesay,  In- 
nellan, up  to  the  middle  of  last  century,  was  lit- 
tle more  than  a  hamlet.  With  the  growth 
of  Glasgow  and  the  increased  means  of  loco- 
motion by  train  and  steamboat,  it  soon  began 
to  be  a  favourite  summer  resort  for  city  mer- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       21 

chants  and  their  famihes.  In  a  short  time 
pretty  villas  dotted  its  shores,  and  for  three 
months  in  mid-summer  a  gay  throng  of  visitors 
frequented  the  village  and  found  health  and 
pastime  by  the  waters  of  the  Firth  of  Clyde. 
No  one  who  has  resided  at  Innellan  will  feel 
any  surprise  at  its  popularity.  From  the  lawn 
in  front  of  the  manse,  which,  with  the  church 
beside  it,  crowns  the  hill  that  overlooks  the  vil- 
lage, one's  eye  rests  on  a  scene  as  bright  and 
winning  as  is  to  be  found  in  Scotland.  Looking 
to  the  left,  due  east  almost,  the  hills  of  Cowal 
are  seen  merging  into  the  mountains  that  guard 
the  entrance  to  Loch  Goil  and  Loch  Long,  and 
the  shores  of  Kilcreggan  seem  to  close  the 
mouth  of  the  Gareloch  and  the  estuary  of  the 
Clyde.  In  front  and  straight  south  one  looks 
on  Skelmorlie  and  the  Ayrshire  coast.  The 
most  inspiring  view  is  to  the  west,  where  the 
broad  waters  of  the  Firth  flow  into  the  Irish 
Channel,  the  far-stretching  sea  broken  by  the 
Isle  of  Cumbrae,  Toward  Point,  the  low  hills 
of  Bute,  in  the  distance  the  high  peaks  of  Arran 
and  standing  solitary  as  a  sentinel  in  mid-chan- 
nel, Ailsa  Craig.    It  is  no  straining  of  language 


10.  GEORGE  MATHESON 

to  say  that  Dr.  Matheson,  during  his  ministry  of 
eighteen  years,  stimulated,  if  he  did  not  supply, 
the  other  two  forces  which  coupled  with  that  of 
Nature  make  the  triumph  of  man's  inner  being 
complete.  By  his  preaching  he  quickened  the 
religious  and  intellectual  life  of  his  hearers, 
and  visitors  to  Innellan  found  that  refreshment 
which .  a  union  of  the  three  forces — nature, 
mind  and  spirit — alone  can  supply.  The  most 
inspiring  memories  of  youth  are  intellectual; 
hence  it  is,  that,  Dr.  Matheson  is  to  us  some- 
thing more  than  a  popular  preacher.  We  can- 
not forget  those  Sundays  at  Innellan  when, 
with  the  teaching  of  one  of  the  deepest  thinkers 
that  then  filled  a  university  chair  fresh  in  our 
mind,  we  attended  worship  in  that  little  country 
church  and  listened  with  rapt  admiration  to  ser- 
mons which  were  as  profound,  suggestive  and 
stimulating  as  the  lectures  of  the  renowned 
professor.  We  felt  that  Matheson  discovered 
by  a  flash  of  genius  what  Edward  Caird  found 
out  by  a  long  process  of  thought.  Though 
all  seasons  revealed  the  preacher's  gifts,  it 
was  in  the  summer  time  that  they  reached 
their   highest    level.      A   crowded   church,    an 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH      2j 

intelligent,  sympathetic  audience  and  a  band 
of  ardent  disciples  drew  out  his  powers;  and  we 
are  among  those  who  think  that  Dr.  Matheson 
never  preached  better  than  he  did  then.  True, 
his  preaching  has  developed.  In  those  days, 
his  sermons  were  carefully  polished;  sentences, 
paragraphs  and  periods  were  studiously  bal- 
anced. In  later  years,  he  has  taken  command 
of  the  ship,  so  to  speak,  and  preaches  not  by 
rote  or  rule,  but  in  obedience  to  his  own  per- 
sonality. What  his  sermons  may  have  lost  in 
literary  finish,  they  have  gained  in  naturalness, 
directness  and  power.  During  the  earlier  part 
of  his  career,  Dr.  Matheson  was  in  the  habit 
of  dictating  his  sermons  to  his  secretary  and 
then  committing  them  almost  verbatim  to  mem- 
ory, but  for  many  years  past  he  has  contented 
himself  with  carefully  thinking  out  and  pre- 
paring a  synopsis  of  his  discourse.  This  he 
easily  carries  in  his  mind;  and  his  marvellous 
gift  of  extempore  speech  enables  him  to  fill  in 
the  skeleton  in  the  course  of  delivery. 

His  ministry  at  Innellan  was  eminently  suc- 
cessful. At  the  time  of  his  ordination  his 
charge  was  only  a  chapel  of  ease.     Within  the 


H  GEORGE  MATHESON 

short  period  of  five  years  it  was  by  his  efforts 
endowed  and  created  into  a  parish.  A  year 
earlier  the  manse  was  built.  All  this  meant 
the  raising  of  a  capital  sum  of  close  upon 
£3,000,  and  when  it  is  remembered  that  the 
inhabitants  numbered  only  a  few  hundred  and 
that  the  summer  population  was  at  best  uncer- 
tain and  resident  in  the  village  only  for  a 
month  or  two,  the  substantial  results  achieved 
reveal  not  only  Dr.  Matheson's  popularity 
as  a  preacher,  but  his  practical  wisdom  and 
interest  in  the  Church.  At  the  very  time  of  his 
leaving  Innellan,  plans  were  preparing  for  ex- 
tending the  church  so  as  to  afford  room  for  the 
increasing  congregation  that  assembled  to  hear 
him. 

Dr.  Matheson  was  fortunate  in  his  first 
charge.  During  the  winter  months  the  only 
demands  on  his  time  were  his  parochial  duties 
and  the  preparation  of  his  weekly  sermon.  The 
former  were  neither  numerous  nor  exacting, 
but  they  were  faithfully  discharged;  and  into  the 
latter  he  put  his  best  thought  and  energy.  His 
practice  was  to  choose  on  the  Sunday  night  his 
text  for  the  following  Sabbath.    It  was  then,  to 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       25 

use  his  own  phrase,  "  without  form  and  void." 
Each  day  something  was  added  to  it  mentally 
until  Saturday  came,  when  the  sermon  was 
complete.  To  a  man  of  his  exceptional  intellec- 
tual ability  and  application,  there  was  accord- 
ingly ample  leisure  for  study  and  literary  work ; 
that  leisure  was  utilised  to  the  utmost.  Every 
day  saw  its  allotted  share  of  reading  and  reflec- 
tion and  composition.  Within  a  few  years  from 
his  appointment  he  began  to  publish;  and  the 
number  of  books  that  have  since  been  written  by 
him,  whilst  they  are  proofs  of  personal  indus- 
try, also  testify  to  the  advantages  of  his  early 
environment  in  affording  him  time  for  thought 
and  reflection. 

Dr.  Matheson's  reputation  was  thoroughly 
established  when  in  1886  he  received  a  call  to 
the  pastorate  of  St.  Bernard's  Parish  Church, 
Edinburgh.  It  was  with  deep  regret  and  sor- 
row that  the  parishioners  of  Innellan  parted 
•with  him.  They  bade  him  farewell  with  every 
token  of  affection  and  respect.  He  had  lent  dis- 
tinction to  the  place,  and  with  his  departure 
they  felt  would  vanish  not  a  little  of  its  attrac- 
tion to  residents  and  visitors  alike.     He  faced 


26  GEORGE  MATHESON 

his  new  and  onerous  duties  in  the  large  parish 
and  among  the  congregation  of  1,700  members 
of  St.  Bernard's  with  his  wonted  energy.  In  a 
comparatively  short  time  he  had  visited  every 
family,  and,  throwing  himself  with  all  his  ar- 
dour into  his  pulpit  duties,  he  drew  crowds  of 
hearers  from  far  and  near.  It  had  been  felt  by 
his  friends  in  the  Church  and  by  Scotsmen  gen- 
erally that  a  man  of  his  brilliant  powers  ought 
not  be  stranded  on  the  shores  of  the  Firth  of 
Clyde,  but  that  he  should  be  in  the  centre  of  the 
thought  and  life  of  the  country,  so  that  his 
influence  might  be  felt  by  a  wider  circle.  In 
Edinburgh  such  possibilities  existed,  and  the 
many  who  remember  his  preaching  and  his 
fourteen  years  of  active  ministerial  work  in 
St.  Bernard's,  know  how  these  possibilities  were 
taken  advantage  of  to  the  very  fullest.  Not 
only  did  he  keep  together  the  large  original 
congregation  of  St.  Bernard's,  maintain 
in  perfect  working  order  the  many  organisations 
in  connection  with  it,  and  carry  out  architec- 
tural improvements  which  cost  nearly  £2,000, 
but  he  gathered  round  him  a  fresh  band  of  dis- 
ciples, thinkers  and  eager  seekers  after  truth — 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH       27 

among  them  not  a  few  whose  faith  was  dis- 
tressed, and  who  found  in  his  sermons  the  mes- 
sage for  which  their  souls  had  been  waiting. 
Nor  did  he  relax  his  literary  labours,  which  were 
greatly  facilitated  by  the  knowledge  which  he 
acquired  in  1892  of  the  Braille  system  for  the 
blind  which  he  has  found  of  inestimable  value. 
In  preparing  for  the  press  his  practise  is  to  write 
each  day  in  Braille  what  he  deems  an  adequate 
amount,  and  on  the  following  day  to  read  off 
this  in  dictation  to  his  secretary. 

To  be  a  preacher  of  the  first  rank  is  a  great 
distinction.  It  may,  however,  be  shared  by 
others.  To  have  at  the  same  time  an  equal 
reputation  as  an  author  is  of  rare  occurrence, 
and  this  is  Dr.  Matheson's  unique  fortune. 
Thousands  who  never  heard  him  preach  have 
read  his  books.  Through  them  he  addresses  a 
vast  multitude.  His  reputation,  it  may  be  said 
without  exaggeration,  is  not  only  European, 
but  world-wide.  A  glance  at  his  books  shows 
the  wide  range  of  his  intellectual  sympathies. 
In  his  first  work,  ''  Aids  to  the  Study  of  Ger- 
man Theology,"  we  have  the  professed  theo- 
logian.       In   his   ''  Natural   Elements  of   Re- 


28  GEORGE  MATHESON 

vealed  Theology  "  (the Baird Lecture),  "  Land- 
marks of  New  Testament  Morality,"  and 
''  The  Spiritual  Development  of  St.  Paul,"  he 
sustains  the  same  role.  In  "  The  Growth  of 
the  Spirit  of  Christianity,"  ''  The  Lady  Eccle- 
sia  "  and  ''  The  Distinctive  Messages  of  the 
Old  Religions  "  we  have  the  student  of  the 
history  of  religious  thought.  In  "  Can  the 
Old  Faith  Live  with  the  New?"  and  ''The 
Psalmist  and  the  Scientist  "  we  see  the  cultured 
Christian  Apologist.  In  ''  My  Aspirations," 
"  Moments  on  the  Mount,"  "  Words  by  the 
Wayside,"  and  ''  Voices  of  the  Spirit,"  we  dis- 
cover the  subtle  interpreter  of  the  Devout  Life; 
and  in  his  latest  and  greatest  work,  ''  Studies 
of  the  Portrait  of  Christ,"  we  have  revealed 
unto  us  the  full  measure  of  the  man,  the  limner 
who  sees  with  the  eyes  of  the  soul  and  draws 
with  the  hand  of  the  spirit.  Through  all  these 
works  there  plays  a  strong  imagination  and  a 
subtle  fancy,  twin  children  of  the  muses,  and 
these  blossom  in  his  book  of  verse,  ''  Sacred 
Songs,"  and  proclaim  him  a  poet.  It  is  re- 
markable that  among  all  Dr.  Matheson's  works 
there  is  not  a  single  volume  of  sermons.     He 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH      29 

has  steadily  resisted  this  temptation  before 
which  so  many  ministers  fall;  still,  we  agree 
with  those  who  think  that  if  he  made  a  careful 
selection  of  his  discourses  the  volume  would 
take  high  rank  and  be  welcomed  by  clergy  and 
laity  alike.  The  qualities  which  one  finds  in 
Dr.  Matheson^s  preaching  are  equally  apparent 
in  his  published  works — originality  and  lucidity, 
depth  of  thought  lit  up  by  beauty  of  style,  a 
fresh  setting  of  an  old  truth,  a  subtle  distinc- 
tion followed  by  a  hitherto  unseen  resemblance. 
All  this  and  much  more  give  that  charm  to  his 
writings  which  has  gained  for  them  so  wide  a 
popularity.  But  through  them  all,  varied  as 
we  have  seen  them  to  be,  there  is  a  settled  pur- 
pose; and  a  brief  consideration  of  this  point 
brings  us  to  what  may  be  termed  Dr.  Mathe- 
son's  theological  position. 

We  have  already  referred  to  two  influences 
which  were  not  without  their  effect  in  shaping 
Dr.  Matheson's  intellectual  life — environment 
and  heredity.  We  glanced  at  another — the  fresh 
movement  in  theology  which  first  made  itself 
felt  in  Scottish  university  teaching  during  his 
career  in  the  Divinity  Hall.     But  this  last  was 


30  GEORGE  MATHESON 

itself  only  the  outcome  of  a  deeper  and  wider 
movement  which  had  been  affecting  men's 
views  in  theology  for  many  years.  It  began 
fully  a  century  ago  in  Germany,  was  taken  up 
in  Britain,  and  gradually  revolutionised  the 
standpoint  and  method  of  theology  as  a  whole. 
Even  the  ordinary  lay  mind  is  familiar  with 
the  names  of  Kant,  Hegel  and  Schleiermacher, 
of  Coleridge,  Maurice  and  Robertson  of 
Brighton,  of  Erskine  of  Linlathen  and  Mac- 
Leod Campbell.  There  is  much  that  is  differ- 
ent in  the  writings  of  these  men.  They  by  no 
means  belong  to  the  same  school.  On  many 
points  that  some  might  regard  as  most  essen- 
tial they  may  be  opposed ;  but  in  one  thing  they 
are  agreed — in  their  breaking  away  from  me- 
chanical and  sterile  views  of  religion  and  in 
their  introduction  of  a  new  element  into  the 
study  of  Divine  truth.  Without  despising  or 
discarding  the  value  of  history  and  outward 
evidence,  but  rather  placing  these  in  their  true 
relationship,  they  brought  into  fuller  light  the 
significance  of  personal  experience  in  religion 
and  emphasised  the  nature  of  its  spiritual  in- 
wardness as  originating  in  will  or  thought  or 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH      31 

feeling,  or  in  all  three  combined.  In  any  case, 
the  religious  spirit  was  liberated  from  the  out- 
ward fetters  of  dogma,  whatever  form  it  may 
have  assumed,  and  was  free  to  face  God  and  His 
self-revelation  in  nature,  history,  providence 
and  the  bible  with  unveiled  face.  Dr.  Matheson, 
during  his  student  days  and  his  first  years  at 
Innellan  felt  the  full  force  of  this  movement; 
and,  while  thoroughly  loyal  to  his  spirit,  his 
aim  has  all  along  been  to  strengthen  and  ex- 
tend it  on  the  lines  of  true  historical  develop- 
ment. Laying  hold  of  the  inward  essential 
element  in  religion  which  goes  beneath  and  is 
common  to  every  variety  of  creed  and  school 
of  thought,  Dr.  Matheson  is  able  to  do  justice 
to  all  the  forms  of  belief  which  have  manifested 
themselves,  not  only  during  the  Christian  era, 
but  since  reflection  on  Divine  thinofs  beean. 
He  finds  in  them  broken  lights  of  the  true 
ideal  of  religion  as  it  is  found  in  the  Person 
and  Life  of  Christ.  Though  helpful  and  in- 
spiring beyond  measure  as  a  theologian,  it  is  as 
a  great  religious  teacher  we  must  regard  him, 
and  religion  Ts  above  and  beyond  and  beneath 
theology.     No  profound  spiritual  thinker  has 


32  GEORGE  MATHESON 

ever  been  able  or  has  ever  even  made  the  at- 
tempt to  put  his  deepest  convictions  into  the 
language  of  the  schools.  Theological  termi- 
nology would  slay  his  beliefs,  which  are  of  the 
spirit ;  and  scholastic  logic  or  confessional  forms 
and  symbols  could  not  express  them.  We  be- 
lieve that  this  is  profoundly  true  of  Dr.  Mathe- 
son.  He  cannot  be  labelled  as  a  Calvinist  or 
Arminian,  as  a  Broad  Cliurchman  or  Evangeli- 
cal, and  be  quietly  put  on  the  theological  shelf. 
He  is  none  of  these  and  yet  all — just  as  religion, 
of  which  every  theological  school  is  a  one- 
sided representation,  belongs  to  no  school,  and 
yet  can  claim  all.  The  fact  is,  the  spirit  of  Dr. 
Matheson's  teaching  goes  beneath  all  outward 
distinctions  and  divisions  of  Christian  theology. 
He  is  a  great  reconciler — the  Schleiermacher 
of  contemporary  theological  thought — and 
points  out  the  deeper  truth  which  underlies  and 
embraces  the  broken  lights  of  opposing  forms 
of  thought.  It  is  accordingly  as  an  inspiring 
force  that  we  must  regard  him.  He  may  never 
found  a  school,  but  he  makes  many  disciples. 
He  has  probably  influenced  a  greater  number 
of  young  men  than  any  other  living  preacher. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH      33 

The  students  of  all  the  theological  halls  crowd 
round  him  in  Edinburgh.  He  is  the  prime 
favourite  of  the  Guildsman,  and  to  be  a  Mathe- 
sonian  is  a  growing  characteristic  of  many 
of  our  rising  pulpit  orators. 

Dr.  Matheson,  who  has  never  been  married, 
lives  in  Edinburgh.  Much  of  his  happiness 
and  success  is  due  to  his  eldest  sister,  whose  life 
has  been  devoted  to  him.  In  private  he  is  one 
of  the  most  genial  and  simple  of  men,  bright 
and  witty  to  a  degree.  He  has  ever  a  hearty 
w^elcome  for  a  friend  and  dispenses  hospitality 
with  a  generous  hand.  He  is  only  in  his  fifty- 
ninth  year;  and  though  he  has  the  record  of  a 
full  life  behind  him,  this  we  believe  will  only 
act  as  an  incentive  to  the  accomplishment  of 
greater  things  in  the  future. 


Times  of  Retirement 

"  the  attractiveness  of 

CHRIST  " 

*'  Sir,  thou  hast  nothing  to  draw  with." 

St.  John  iv.  II. 

THE   Woman  of  Samaria  has  struck  the 
marvel  in  the  life  of  Jesus;  He  had 
nothing  to  draw  with.    The  most  at- 
tractive figure  in  the  fields  of  time  had  no  out- 
ward cause  for  His  attractiveness.    He  says  so 
Himself,  ''  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men 
unto  me."  His  drawing  will  be  proportionate  to 
His  zt'///idrawing,  to  His  shrinking  within  Him- 
self, to  His  sacrifice.    The  greatest  compliment 
you  can  pay  to  man  or  woman  is  to  say  that 
they    attract    without    adornment.     There  are 
some  who  would  reveal  their  birth  in  any  garb 
—in  the  meanest,  in  the  poorest.     You  might 
clothe  them  in  rags;  you  might  lodge  them  in 
hovels;  you    might    surround    them  with  the 
35 


36  TIMES  OF 

humblest  furniture;  but  their  speech  would  be- 
tray them  to  be  "not  of  Galilee."  They  have 
nothing  to  draw  with,  but  they  themselves 
draw.  They  may  stand  before  the  judgment- 
seat  of  a  Pilate;  but  their  attitude  says  "  I  am 
a  king." 

So  is  it  with  Thee,  Thou  Son  of  the  Highest. 
Thou  hast  nothing  to  attract  but  Thine  own 
beauty.  Thou  hast  put  off  the  best  robe  of 
the  Father;  Thou  hast  assumed  the  dress  of 
the  prodigal  son.  It  is  in  a  soiled  garment  that 
Thou  hast  solicited  my  love.  Thou  hast  come 
to  me  footsore  and  wxary — a  man  of  sorrows 
and  acquainted  with  grief.  Thou  hast  offered 
me  no  gifts  of  material  glory.  Thou  hast  asked 
me  to  share  Thy  poverty.  Thou  hast  said: 
''  Wilt  thou  come  with  me  to  the  place  where 
the  thorns  are  rifest,  to  the  land  where  the  roses 
are  most  rare?  Wilt  thou  follow  me  down 
the  deep  shadows  of  Gethsemane,  up  the  steep 
heights  of  Calvary?  Wilt  thou  go  with  me 
where  the  hungry  cry  for  bread,  where  the  sick 
implore  for  health,  where  the  weary  weep  for 
rest?  Wilt  thou  accompany  me  where  pain 
dwells,  where  danger  lurks,  where  death  lies? 


RETIREMENT  37 

Wilt  thou  walk  with  me  through  the  lanes  and 
alleys  where  the  poor  meet  and  struggle  and 
die?  Wilt  thou  live  with  me  where  the  world 
passes  by  in  scorn,  where  fashion  pauses  not 
to  rest,  where  even  disciples  have  often  for- 
saken me  and  fled?  Then  is  thy  love  com- 
plete, my  triumph  perfected.  Then  have  I 
reached  the  summit  of  human  glory;  for  thou 
hast  chosen  me  for  myself  alone,  and  without 
the  aid  of  earth  I  have  drawn  thy  heart  to 
heaven." 


38  TIMES  OF 


A  CHAPTER  IN  INWARD 
BIOGRAPHY  " 

"  Wherefore  gird  up  the  loins  of  your  mind,  be  sober ^ 
and  hope  to  the  end  for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought 
unto  you  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ." 

1st  Peter  i.  13, 

THERE  were  three  stages  in  the  life  of 
Peter,  and  unconsciously  he  repeats 
them  here.  He  began  with  the  "  gird- 
ing " — what  Christ  calls  the  self-confidence  of 
youth.  Life  stretched  before  him  joyously;  it 
seemed  a  very  easy  thing.  Its  sea  was  a  place 
of  promenade;  men  could  walk  on  it;  he  at  all 
events  could  walk  on  it.  Others  might  need  to 
go  round  the  loch;  but  he  could  cross  over  it; 
"  on  the  banks  of  Allan  Water,  none  so  gay  as 
he."  Then  came  the  second  stage — the  ''  sober- 
ing down."  Life  stretched  before  him 
gloomily;  self-confidence  vanished;  despair 
came.  Not  only  could  nobody  walk  on  the 
sea;  nobody  could  sail  on  it.     It  was  all  storm, 


RETIREMENT  39 

storm,  storm.  He  put  out  his  hand  and  cried 
"  Save  me,  I  perish;  "  ''  on  the  banks  of  Allan 
Water,  none  so  sad  as  he."  Then  came  the 
third  stage — the  ''  hoping  for  a  grace  beyond." 
Life  stretched  before  him  Godwardly.  It  was 
a  new  confidence — no  longer  in  self,  but  in 
heaven.  It  was  the  union  of  aspiration  and 
humility.  It  said  :  ''  I  am  a  poor  enough  crea- 
ture; yet  if  on  life's  sea  there  were  not  a  haven 
for  me,  I  should  not  be  here.  God  has  a  place 
for  me — if  not  on  the  promenade,  then  in  the 
ship — if  not  in  the  ship,  then  in  the  ferryboat. 
It  is  coming,  it  is  coming;  it  will  be  here  by 
and  by." 

Even  such,  my  soul,  is  God's  leading  of  thee. 
At  first  thou  seest  Christ  without  the  storm — 
Christ  too  near,  Christ  coming  apart  from  the 
clouds.  Heaven  is  so  close  at  hand  that  earth 
dwindles,  and  its  biggest  concerns  become 
trifles.  Thy  Father  will  not  let  thee  believe 
that;  and  so  He  sends  thee  a  sobering  down. 
Thou  hast  seen  Christ  without  the  storm;  He 
gives  thee  a  vision  of  the  storm  without  Christ 
— a  vision  sore  but  salutary.  It  brings  thee 
into  touch  with  human  grief ;  it  teaches  thee  the 


40  TIMES  OF 

fellowship  that  lies  in  the  mystery  of  pain;  bless 
thy  Father  for  the  sobering  hour.  At  last  there 
comes  to  thee  the  reconciling  morning — the 
waiting  for  thy  Christ  in  the  storm.  Thou  hast 
seen  thy  Christ  alone;  thou  hast  seen  thy  storm 
alone;  but  the  marriage  is  coming.  These  feet 
Divine  shall  touch  thy  human  sea,  and  the  mar- 
riage bells  shall  ring  ''  It  is  I;  I  and  the  storm 
are  one."  Ring  out,  glad  bells,  and  we  shall 
cease  to  be  afraid.  It  is  not  less  storm  we  need, 
it  is  more  light.  We  would  not  suspend  Jacob's 
struggle;  let  but  the  day  break  to  tell  us  he  is 
vanquished  by  an  angel's  wing.  Thou  canst 
bear  a  thousand  waves  if  they  claim  identity 
with  Jesus;  the  storm  will  not  grate  upon  thine 
ear  if  He  says  '^  It  is  I."  All  grace  shall  come 
to  thee  "  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ." 


RETIREMENT  41 


"THE   STRENGTH   OF  THE  HEART" 

"God  is  the  strength  of   my  heart." — Psalm   Ixxiii.  26. 

WHY  is  God  the  strength  of  the  heart  ? 
Because  God  is  love.  The  strength 
of  the  heart  is  not  its  steeUng,  but 
its  softening.  How  am  I  to  bear  the  spectacle 
of  human  sorrow  ?  I  am  often  called  to  go  into 
such  scenes,  and  it  tries  all  my  courage.  What 
shall  be  the  ground  of  my  courage;  where  shall 
lie  my  strength  for  meeting  the  scene?  Shall 
I  harden  my  heart?  It  is  quite  possible  to  do 
so.  But  remember,  to  harden  the  heart  is  to 
weaken  the  heart.  You  may  purchase  im- 
munity from  the  pain  of  the  spectacle;  but  it  is 
by  the  administration  of  chloroform.  But  I 
will  show  you  a  more  excellent  way — the  way, 
not  of  the  heart's  weakness,  but  of  its  strength. 
There  is  no  power  which  strengthens  the  heart 
like  the  fulness  of  its  own  love.  There  is  noth- 
ing which  can  bear  scenes  of  misery  like  love 


42  TIMES  OF 

itself.  Why  is  this?  It  is  because  all  love  has 
hope  in  it.  An  inferior  feeling  would  be  less  fit 
to  bear.  Pity  could  not  bear  like  love.  Pity 
does  not  mean  hope;  it  sees  only  the  dark  side, 
and  so  it  often  prompts  to  flight.  But  love  has 
no  despair  in  it.  There  is  ever  a  light  in  its 
valley.  It  is  always  accompanied  by  its  two 
sisters — faith  and  hope;  that  is  why  it  is  the 
strength  of  the  heart. 

Thou  Christ  of  love,  none  could  bear  scenes 
of  sorrow  like  Thee.  Thy  disciples  had  less 
love;  therefore  they  were  more  easily  over- 
come. "  Send  her  away,  for  she  crieth  after 
us  "  was  their  plaint  to  Thee  concerning  the 
suppliant  woman.  They  had  only  the  pain  of 
pity.  Their  nerves  were  irritated  by  the  cry. 
They  wanted  to  shut  their  ears.  Thou  hadst 
a  deeper  pain —  love's  pain — the  pain  that  car- 
ries promise  in  its  bosom.  They  could  not  cast 
out  the  sorrow  by  reason  of  their  unbelief — un- 
belief in  the  possibility  of  the  cure.  But  Thou 
hadst  so  much  love  that  Thou  couldst  believe  all 
things.  Why  has  the  Lord  *'  laid  on  Thee  the 
iniquities  of  us  all"?  Because  Thou  hadst 
more   hardness   than   others?      Nay;    because 


RETIREMENT  43 

Thou  hadst  more  love.  The  strength  of  Thy 
heart  was  Thy  tenderness;  it  was  its  ''gentle- 
ness that  made  Thee  great."  All  the  genera- 
tions pressed  upon  the  bridge,  and  the  bridge 
was  not  broken.  Why?  Not  because  it  was 
made  of  iron,  but  because  it  was  made  of  velvet. 
Thy  love  could  bear  all  things  because  it  could 
believe  all  things.  It  could  go  before  us  into 
Galilee — into  all  the  Galilees  of  human  pain. 
It  could  outstrip  us  on  the  road  to  succour 
earthly  need,  for  it  was,  it  is,  the  very  strength 
of  God. 


44  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  POSTPONEMENT  OF  THE 
BEATIFIC  VISION  " 

"  They  drank  of  that  spiritual  rock  which  followed 
them." — 1st  Corinthians,  x.  4. 

IT  is  ever  so.  The  blessing  of  our  good 
deeds  does  not  accompany  them;  it  fol- 
lows them.  It  often  seems  at  the  time 
as  if  they  were  done  in  vain.  Our  good  actions 
appear  for  the  present  to  have  a  death  in  the 
desert.  You  give  a  coin  to  a  beggar  who  seems 
to  be  starving.  He  thanks  you  profusely.  You 
watch  his  receding  form,  and  see  him  vanish 
into  the  first  gin-shop.  You  say  ''  my  charity 
has  all  gone  for  nothing."  No;  it  is  only  your 
money  that  has.  Do  not  identify  your  money 
with  your  charity.  The  one,  through  the  force 
of  long  habit,  may  be  spent  in  an  ale-house 
within  five  minutes;  the  other  may  be  laid  up 
in  the  heart  for  years,  and  bear  rich  interest 
after  many  days.     I  have  seen  a  kind  advice 


RETIREMENT 


45 


bring  forth  at  the  time  only  a  storm  of  temper ; 
but  on  the  morrow  it  was  weighed  and  accepted. 
**  Light  is  sozvn  for  the  righteous  "  is  a  beauti- 
ful phrase.  It  tells  me  that  I  must  expect  my 
good  deeds  to  lie  underground  a  while.  Like 
the  disciples,  I  must  begin  the  journey  to  Em- 
maus  ere  I  have  heard  of  the  risen  flower.  Yet 
my  Christ  shall  overtake  me  on  the  way,  and  at 
evening,  when  the  day  is  far  spent,  the  fruits  of 
the  morning  shall  abide  w^ith  me. 

Lord,  if  Thou  wilt  go  before  me,  I  shall  be 
content  that  Thy  goodness  and  mercy  follow 
me.  I  should  not  like  to  postpone  obedience 
to  Thy  command  till  I  can  see  the  good  of  it. 
There  are  times  when  to  me,  as  to  Abraham, 
there  comes  the  mandate,  "  Get  thee  out  of  thy 
country  into  a  land  which  thou  knowest  not." 
At  such  times  I  cry,  like  Moses,  ''  I  beseech 
Thee,  show  me  Thy  glory ;  let  me  see  the  gam  of 
Thy  command  before  I  go."  But  Thou  sayest : 
''  No,  my  child,  /  go  before;  the  gain  follows. 
I  know  there  are  things  in  the  journey  to  appal 
thee.  I  have  pointed  thee  to  the  red  heights 
of  Moriah;  I  have  spread  for  thee  the  stone  pil- 
low of  Bethel;  I  have  prepared  for  thee  the 


46  TIMES  OF 

lonely  peak  of  Nebo.  What  then?  Wilt  thou 
insist  beforehand  on  seeing  the  ram  in  the 
thicket?  Wilt  thou  insist  on  beholding  in  ad- 
vance the  ladder  from  heaven?  Wilt  thou  in- 
sist on  having  a  previous  view  of  the  Promised 
Land?  Nay,  let  my  voice  to  thee  precede  my 
light.  Plunge  into  the  sea,  and  thy  Christ  will 
follow.  Dive  into  the  night,  and  the  morning 
will  follow.  Stride  into  the  desert,  and  the 
world  will  follow.  Thy  glory  shall  come  after 
thee.  Thy  buried  Christ  shall  meet  thee  in  the 
evening.  Thou  shalt  drink  at  twilight  of  that 
fountain  which  was  sealed  to  thee  at  dawn.'* 


RETIREMENT  47 


"THE   GROUND   OF   HUMAN   HOPE" 

"  A  promise  being  left  us  of  entering  into  His  rest." 

— Hebrews  iv.  i. 

WHAT  is  my  promise  of  entering  into 
rest?  It  is  not  my  possessions,  but 
my  wants.  When  you  ask  men  the 
ground  of  their  immortal  hope  they  often  point 
you  to  the  powers  of  the  human  soul — proud 
reason,  lofty  imagination,  clear  judgment,  far 
memory.  That  is  a  vain  boast.  To  the  inhabi- 
tant of  another  star  these  might  seem  but  the 
movement  of  a  midge's  wing.  My  brother,  you 
have  mistaken  the  secret  of  your  true  dignity. 
It  is  not  the  sense  of  what  you  have,  but  the 
sense  of  what  you  have  not,  that  makes  you  a 
man,  that  divides  you  from  the  beast  of  the 
field.  What  do  you  mean  by  a  ''  boy  of 
promise  "  ?  Not  a  boy  who  has  reached  great 
knowledge,  but  a  boy  who  wants  more  knowl- 
edge than  he  can  yet  get;  we  call  such  "a 


48  TIMES  OF 

promising  lad."  Your  heavenly  Father  has  a 
like  estimate — whether  for  boys  or  girls,  for 
men  or  women.  He  measures  your  promise  by 
your  wants.  Not  he  that  is  content  with  the 
treasures  within  his  door  is  the  Father's  prom- 
ising son.  It  is  he  that  batters  on  the  door  and 
cries  "  Let  me  out,  let  me  out;  it  is  too  narrow 
here,  too  dull,  too  lonely."  The  boy  is  above 
his  environment.  He  is  beyond  his  playthings, 
but  not  yet  ready  for  his  prizes.  He  is  in  the 
desert  between  Egypt  and  Canaan.  Egypt  is 
past;  Canaan  is  not  yet  come;  yet  his  cry  is  not 
to  get  back,  but  to  get  forward.  The  land  of 
the  Pyramids  would  not  please  him  now.  He 
has  no  rest  in  all  the  yesterdays;  he  wants  some- 
thing from  to-morrow. 

My  Father,  I  understand  now  why  it  is  to 
the  ''  poor  in  spirit  "  that  Christ  promises  the 
kingdom.  The  proof  of  my  royalty  is  my  un- 
satisfied soul.  The  promise  of  my  rest  is  my 
^/nrest.  My  claim  to  Thee  is  my  longing  for 
Thee.  I  could  not  long  for  Thee  if  Thou  wert 
not  in  me;  my  want  is  the  shadow  of  Thy  sun- 
shine. I  am  the  only  creature  on  earth  that  is 
not  content  with  its  environment.     The  bird 


RETIREMENT  49 

carols  all  the  day,  and  asks  not  larger  wing. 
The  fish  swims  upon  the  wave,  and  desires  no 
friendlier  bosom.  The  cattle  browse  in  the 
meadow,  and  find  the  meadow  ample  room. 
But  neither  the  air  nor  the  water  nor  the  land 
has  been  a  rest  to  me.  I  have  refused  to  sing 
where  the  lark  sings — outside  the  gates  of 
heaven.  I  have  beat  against  the  bars;  I  have 
demanded  to  get  in.  The  gate  that  bars  me 
from  Thee  has  spoiled  my  song.  My  want  of 
Thee  is  my  prophecy  of  Thee.  Why  do  I  re- 
fuse to  sing  on  the  outside  of  the  heavenly 
gate  ?  Because  ivithin  the  gate  is  my  Father's 
house,  with  its  warm  fires  of  welcome,  with  its 
many  mansions  of  gold.  My  thirst  for  Thee 
is  the  cry  for  "home,  sweet  home;  "  and  the 
cry  is  itself  the  promise  that  I  shall  enter  into 
Thy  rest. 


so  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  CONGRUITY  BETWEEN 

PRAYER  AND  ITS 

ANSWER" 

"  What  man  is  there  of  you  zvhom,  if  his  son  ask 
bread,  he  will  give  him  a  stone  f  " — St.  Matthew  vii.  9. 

MY  brother,  did  you  never  ask  bread 
in  the  hope  of  getting  a  stone?  Did 
you  never  say  ''  It  is  a  very  profit- 
able thing  to  pray  for  the  grace  of  Christ;  it 
brings  worldly  riches  "  ?  And  then,  when  in 
answer  to  your  prayer  for  bread  the  stone  has 
not  come,  have  you  never  said  something  like 
this :  "  What  is  the  use  of  being  a  Christian  ? 
Where  is  the  profit  of  my  prayers?  I  have 
never  ceased  morning  nor  evening  to  ask  for 
the  Spirit  of  Christ.  In  darkness  and  at  dawn 
I  have  not  forgotten  to  bend  the  knee.  From 
the  burden  of  each  day  I  have  ever  stolen  some 
stray  moments  for  my  Father.  What  have  I 
gained  by  it?    Nothing.    My  neighbour  across 


RETIREMENT  ji 

the  street  never  prays;  and  year  by  year  he  is 
adding  to  his  earthly  store.  But  /  have  no  in- 
crease in  the  golden  stream.  The  purple  and 
the  fine  linen  come  not,  spite  of  my  prayers  for 
grace.  The  ships  are  not  more  laden  with  my 
merchandise.  The  orders  are  not  more  fre- 
quent at  my  counting-house.  The  visitors  are 
not  more  fashionable  at  my  dwelling.  I  might 
as  well  be  a  Pagan  for  all  that  I  have  gained. 
'I  have  washed  my  hands  in  innocency,  and 
cleansed  my  heart  in  vain.'  " 

Be  still,  my  soul;  thou  hast  searched  the 
wrong  casket  for  thy  gem.  Didst  thou  think 
that  thy  Father  was  going  to  mock  thee— to 
send  thee  a  trinket  instead  of  a  jewel !  Didst 
thou  not  ask  a  ring— an  adoption  ring — the 
right  to  say  "  my  Father  "  !  Would  it  be  an 
answer  to  that  prayer  if  He  should  start  a 
charitable  subscription  for  thee !  Wouldst  thou 
be  fed  by  charity  when  thou  art  a  king's  son ! 
Thou  hast  asked  admission  into  His  audience 
chamber;  murmurest  thou  that  He  brings  thee 
not  into  the  servants'  hall!  Thou  has  asked 
communion  with  Himself;  complainest  thou 
that  He  sends  not  His  vassals  to  bear  His  mes- 


52 


TIMES  OF 


sage!  Thou  hast  asked  to  see  Him  face  to 
face;  weepest  thou  that  He  has  refused  to  thee 
a  veil!  I  have  read  that  Mary  came  to  seek 
the  dead  body  of  Jesus,  and  found  instead  a 
living  Lord;  and  I  can  understand  her  glad  sur- 
prise. But  wouldst  thou,  my  soul,  reverse  the 
picture;  wouldst  thou  supplicate  for  a  living 
Lord,  and  mourn  because  there  came  not  a 
lifeless  body!  Men  say  thy  sin  is  pride;  nay, 
it  is  humility.  Thou  art  not  ambitious  enough, 
not  soaring  enough.  Thine  expectation  is  less 
than  thine  asking.  Thy  hope  is  too  modest; 
thine  aim  is  too  low.  Thou  art  made  for  the 
ladder  of  angels,  and  thou  art  content  with 
the  pillow  of  stone;  lift  up  thine  eyes,  O  my 
soul! 


RETIREMENT  53 


"THE  FIRST  RECOGNITION  OF 
CHRIST  " 

"  He  came  unto  His  ozvn,  and  His  own  received  Him 
not.  But  as  many  as  received  Him,  to  them  gave  He 
power  to  become  the  sons  of  God,  even  to  them  that 
believe  on  His  name." — John  i.  ii,  12. 

THE  earliest  requirement  of  Jesus  was 
"  faith  in  His  name."  ''  Faith  in  His 
name "  meant  originally  ''faith  that 
He  would  make  His  name."  That  is  ever  the 
earliest  need  of  the  great — that  some  one  shall 
foresee  their  future  glory.  The  man  of  letters 
needs  it  from  his  publisher,  the  artist  from  his 
academy.  And  those  most  hard  to  convince 
are  always  ''  one's  own."  They  are  too  near, 
too  familiar.  Have  they  not  seen  you  walking 
about  the  streets  of  Nazareth!  Do  they  not 
know  your  parents !  Are  they  not  passing 
every  day  your  scene  of  human  toil!  How 
can  one  so  very  accessible  be  anything  great! 
Our  relatives  may  be  the  most  kind  to  us;  but 


54  TIMES  OF 

it  is  outsiders  who  first  discern  our  promise. 
Who  first  detected  that  your  Httle  girl  was  a 
musical  genius?  A  stranger.  Her  voice  was 
too  familiar  to  you  to  excite  wonder.  She  was 
so  much  a  child  of  Nazareth,  she  was  so  "  sub- 
ject to  her  parents,"  that  the  foreign  element 
escaped  you.  Your  eye  had  been  so  long  fixed 
on  the  casket  that  you  forgot  to  study  the  gem. 
But  the  eye  of  the  stranger  caught  it.  He  said  : 
"Do  you  know  the  treasure  which  you  have? 
Are  you  aware  that  this  voice  will  be  heard  of, 
talked  of?  Have  you  realised  the  pride,  the 
privilege  of  your  possession?  Are  you  con- 
scious that  you  are  hiding  in  your  dwelling  a 
pearl  of  great  price,  that,  if  the  world  knew, 
it  would  gather  round  your  door  in  hundreds, 
in  thousands?  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  that 
this  was  a  land  of  gold !  " 

Jesus,  I  bless  those  who  trusted  Thee  before 
Thou  hadst  made  Thy  name — who  had  faith 
in  Thy  name;  the  greatest  Book  in  the  world 
would  never  have  been  published  but  for  them. 
It  is  easy  to  praise  Thy  name  nour;  that  is 
knowledge,  not  faith.  The  w^orld  has  gone  af- 
ter Thee;   all  men  have  bowed  down  before 


RETIREMENT  SS 

Thee.  But  then  Thou  wert  a  tender  plant  and 
a  root  out  of  dry  ground.  I  bless  those  who 
had  sight  enough  to  see  Thee.  I  bless  Nico- 
demus  who  took  Thee  up  when  dead.  I  bless 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  who  hoped  over  Thy 
grave.  I  bless  Magdalene  who  brought  spices 
to  Thy  lifeless  form.  I  bless  the  penitent  thief 
who  saw  Thy  kingdom  on  Thy  Cross.  It  was 
only  genius  that  could  see  Thee  at  such  an 
hour.  Doubtless,  had  /  been  there,  I  should 
have  echoed  Pilate's  laugh,  "  Art  thou  a 
king !  "  /  began  to  worship  when  the  world 
began  to  praise.  But  the  men  of  the  night, 
the  men  who  recognised  Thee  in  the  shadows — 
these  have  the  glory.  Crown  them,  for  they 
have  crowned  me.  Exalt  their  memory,  for 
they  have  exalted  me.  Keep  green  their  wreath 
of  fame,  for  they  saw  amid  the  night  the  gift 
that  enriches  me. 


56  TIMES  OF 


"THE   REVELATION   THAT 
RETARDED  '' 

"  And  the  Lord  appeared  unto  Isaac  and  said,  Go  not 
down  into  Egypt." — Genesis  xxvi.  2. 

WE  are  in  the  habit  of  thinking  that 
every  revelation  of  God  must  ex- 
pand our  vision.  It  is  a  mistake. 
God  sometimes  reveals  Himself  by  contracting 
our  view.  It  was  so  here.  He  appeared  to 
Isaac  in  the  form  of  a  stone  wall.  Isaac  wanted 
to  branch  out — to  go  into  Egypt.  Going  to 
Egypt  was  like  going  to  Paris;  it  was  a  seeing 
of  the  world.  God  said  "  stay  where  you  are; 
I  will  not  let  you  go."  It  was  not  the  sort  of 
thing  a  young  man  would  expect  from  a  Divine 
apparition.  If  he  were  told  God  was  about  to 
appear  to  him,  he  would  say  in  his  heart,  "  I 
shall  now  be  directed  to  a  wider  field  of  enter- 
prise." What  would  be  his  astonishment  if  the 
revelation  said,   '*  Go  back  to  your  primitive 


\ 


RETIREMENT  jy 

field,  your  childhood's  field !  "  1  hat  is  just 
what  happened  to  Isaac.  He  had  planned  the 
making  of  his  fortune.  He  was  on  the  road 
to  the  land  of  his  dreams — the  land  of  Egypt; 
doubtless  he  said  to  himself,  ''  Providence  leads 
me."  Suddenly  Providence  appeared  and  shut 
the  door.  God  said,  ''  Keep  where  you  are — 
in  this  humble  sphere  where  there  are  no  trap- 
pings of  wealth,  no  flights  of  promotion,  no 
rapid  openings  into  glory;  I  have  decreed  for 
you  a  village  life." 

My  brother,  never  let  the  obscurity  of  thy 
lot  tempt  thee  to  say  "  my  way  is  hid  from 
the  Lord."  I  have  heard  thee  lamenting  the 
gates  that  were  closed  to  thee.  Hast  thou  lost 
an  appointment?  Our  c^uappointments  are 
often  God's  appointments.  Art  thou  stretched 
upon  a  bed  of  pain  while  the  world  sweeps  by 
to  take  your  place,  to  gather  your  prizes?  So 
was  it  with  Jacob  on  the  night  of  Bethel  long 
ago.  Doubtless  he  fretted  and  fumed,  and  ar- 
raigned the  Eternal  Justice ;  doubtless  he  cursed 
the  pillow  that  robbed  him  of  his  chance  in  the 
race.  Poor,  short-sighted  soul!  that  invalid 
couch  was  the  birth  of  thy  glory.     The  night 


58  TIMES  OF 

that  shut  thee  in  secured  thine  immortality. 
The  weariness  that  prostrated  thee  lifted  thee 
into  fame.  The  sleep  that  overwhelmed  thee 
redeemed  thee  from  oblivion.  Thy  silent  hour 
was  thy  most  crowded  hour.  Men  said,  ''  he  is 
buried  underground;  "  so  is  the  railway  train 
when  it  makes  leaps  in  its  journey.  Thine  un- 
derground moments  have  been  thine  accelerated 
moments.  Not  by  thy  days  of  earthly  splen- 
dour shall  the  world  remember  thee.  Not  by 
thy  triumphs  in  the  chase,  not  by  thy  tradings 
in  the  market-place,  not  even  by  thy  patriarchal 
birthright,  shall  men  preserve  the  memory  of 
thy  name.  Thou  shalt  be  known  by  that  in- 
valid couch,  where,  in  the  midst  of  thy  proud 
career,  thy  Father's  message  barred  thine  on- 
ward way. 


RETIREMENT  59 


"THE   REVELATION   THAT 
REWARDED  " 

"And  the  Lord  appeared  unto  Isaac  the  same  night." 

Genesis  xxvi.  24. 

4C  A  PPEARED  the  same  night  "—the 
y%  night  on  which  he  went  up  to  Beer- 
sheba.  Do  you  think  this  revelation 
was  an  accident?  Do  you  think  the  time  of  it 
was  an  accident?  Do  you  think  it  could  have 
happened  on  any  other  night  as  well  as  this? 
If  so,  you  are  grievously  mistaken.  Why  did 
it  come  to  Isaac  in  the  night  on  which  he 
reached  Beersheba?  Because  that  was  the 
night  on  which  he  reached  rest.  In  his  old 
locality  he  had  been  tormented.  There  had  been 
a  whole  series  of  petty  quarrels  about  the  pos- 
session of  paltry  wells.  There  are  no  worries 
like  little  worries,  particularly  if  there  is  an 
accumulation  of  them.  Isaac  felt  this.  Even 
after  the  strife  was  past,  the  place  retained  a 


Go  TIMES  OF 

disagreeable  association.  He  determined  to 
leave.  He  sought  change  of  scene — a  spot 
where  there  would  be  nothing  to  remind  him  of 
the  old  troubles.  He  pitched  his  tent  away 
from  the  place  of  former  strife.  That  very 
night  the  revelation  came.  God  spoke  when 
there  was  no  inward  storm.  He  could  not 
speak  when  the  mind  was  fretted;  His  voice 
demands  the  silence  of  the  soul.  Only  in  the 
hush  of  the  spirit  could  Isaac  hear  the  garments 
of  his  God  sweep  by.  His  still  night  was  his 
starry  night. 

My  soul,  hast  thou  pondered  these  words, 
''  Be  still,  and  know  " !  In  the  hour  of  per- 
turbation thou  canst  not  hear  the  answer  to 
thy  prayers.  How  often  has  the  answer  seemed 
to  come  long  after !  The  heart  got  no  response 
in  the  moment  of  its  crying — in  its  thunder, 
its  earthquake,  and  its  fire.  But  when  the  cry- 
ing ceased,  when  the  stillness  fell,  when  thy 
hand  desisted  from  knocking  on  the  iron  gate, 
when  the  interest  of  other  lives  broke  the 
tragedy  of  thine  own,  then  appeared  the  long 
delayed  reply.  Why  so  long  delayed?  Be- 
cause it  is  only  in  the  cool  of  the  day  that  the 


RETIREMENT  6i 

voice  of  the  Lord  God  is  heard  walking  in  the 
garden.  Would'st  thou  hear  that  voice,  O  my 
soul?  Get  thee  up  to  Beersheba — up  to  the 
land  of  rest.  Did  not  thy  Lord  before  distribut- 
ing the  loaves  "  command  the  multitude  to 
sit  down''!  Thou  too  must  sit  down  ere  thou 
canst  be  fed.  Thou  must  rest  if  thou  wouldst 
have  thy  heart's  desire.  It  comes  not  to  the 
heart  on  the  wing.  Cease  thy  migrations. 
Pause  in  thy  flight.  Arrest  thy  wanderings. 
Still  the  beating  of  thy  pulse  of  personal  care. 
Hide  thy  tempest  of  individual  trouble  behind 
the  altar  of  a  common  tribulation.  And,  that 
same  night,  the  Lord  shall  appear  to  thee. 
Heaven  shall  open  to  the  dove-like  spirit.  The 
rainbow  shall  span  the  place  of  the  subsiding 
flood;  and  in  thy  stillness  thou  shalt  hear  the 
everlasting  music. 


62  TIMES  OF 


"  SPIRITUAL  PRESERVATION 

"  Who  are  kept  by  the  power  of  God  through  faith 
unto  salvation  ready  to  be  revealed  in  the  last  time," 

I   Peter  i.  5. 

I  UNDERSTAND  St.  Peter  to  mean  "  we 
are  kept  from  going  wrong  by  the 
power  of  looking  forward — by  faith  in 
the  nearness  of  a  coming  revelation."  Nothing 
hinders  the  sustaining  of  goodness  like  monot- 
ony— the  want  of  a  prospect.  It  is  easier  to  be 
good  at  the  beginning  than  in  the  middle. 
Why?  Not  because  the  middle  has  more  dan- 
gers, but  because  it  has  less  freshness,  ''  while 
the  bridegroom  tarried  they  all  slumbered  and 
slept."  Peter  himself  is  the  finest  example  of 
this.  He  was  always  courting  danger.  Why? 
Because  he  felt  that  a  monotonous  life  would 
lead  him  into  temptation.  A  monotonous  life 
does  not  mean  a  want  of  something  to  do,  but 
a  want  of  something  to  think  of.  I  do  not  agree 
with  Dr.  Watts'  lines : — 


RETIREMENT  63 

"  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do." 

It  is  not  the  idle  hands,  but  the  idle  minds, 
that  are  in  danger.  I  should  say  the  dreams 
of  youth  are  times  of  idle  hands;  but  I  should 
not  regard  them  as  special  seasons  of  tempta- 
tion. The  iJiind  is  then  full.  There  is  a  vision 
of  glory  everywhere.  Faith  is  singing  in  every 
meadow;  hope  is  budding  in  every  flower;  love 
is  shouting  over  the  withered  autumn  leaves 
''O  death,  where  is  thy  sting;  O  grave,  where 
is  thy  victory !  " 

Let  me  dream  again,  O  Christ;  revive  for 
me  the  vision  of  the  morning.  It  may  have 
been  a  time  of  idle  hands;  but  it  was  Elijah's 
chariot  to  me — it  held  me  aloft,  it  kept  me  pure. 
Canst  Thou  give  me  back  my  vanished  youth  ? 
Yes;  what  is  Thy  Life  Eternal  but  vanished 
youth  restored !  The  thing  which  kept  me  pure 
in  the  morning  was  always  the  vision  of  the 
evening — the  golden  sky  that  should  come  with 
ripest  years.  Renew  that  vision,  O  Christ. 
Why  should  my  nature  droop  because  I  recede 
from  the  morning?  Was  not  my  glory  always 
in  the  west;  did  not  I  ever  say  ''  at  evening 


64  TIMES  OF 

time  there  shall  be  light "  ?  It  was  always  to 
"  the  last  time  "  that  I  looked  for  my  revelation 
of  glory.  Let  me  look  again.  It  was  always 
the  west  that  made  the  east  so  charming;  my 
morning  was  lighted  by  the  evening  star.  Light 
me  still  by  that  star,  O  Lord.  Lift  me  out  of 
the  mid-day  by  the  vision  of  the  climax.  Give 
me  something  to  look  forward  to.  Break  the 
monotony  of  the  stream.  Renew  the  rainbow 
in  the  waters.  Draw  aside  the  curtains  of  the 
golden  west,  and  let  faith  look  through.  My 
feet  shall  be  kept  from  the  mire  when  I  see  the 
good  time  coming. 


RETIREMENT  65 


"  GOD'S  PLACE  FOR  ADVERSITY  " 

"  What  profit  is  it  that  we  have  walked  mournfully 
before  the  Lord  of  hosts f  " — Malachi  iii.  14. 

THERE  is  no  profit  in  walking  mourn- 
fully. All  the  profit  a  man  ever  gets 
is  from  his  joy.  The  advantage  of 
the  fires  of  sorrow  does  not  lie  in  the  things 
which  they  consume,  but  in  the  things  which 
they  cannot  consume.  The  sweetest  of  all  the 
uses  of  adversity  is  to  show  me  the  joy  which 
it  cannot  take  away.  There  is  a  substance 
which  fire  will  not  destroy;  it  is  like  the  bush 
Moses  saw  in  the  wilderness.  I  could  never 
have  its  quality  proved  except  hy  fire.  Yet  the 
blessing  is  not  the  fire,  but  the  unconsumed- 
ness.  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego 
passed  through  the  furnace  and  got  no  hurt. 
What  was  to  them  the  benefit  of  the  furnace? 
Precisely  the  limit  of  its  power — what  it  could 
not  do.    Doubtless  in  things  not  vital  there  was 


66  TIMES  OF 

damage  done.  The  men  were  cast  in  bound 
and  they  came  out  loose;  there  was  destruction 
to  the  environment.  But  it  was  not  this  that 
made  the  furnace  beneficial.  It  was  the  un- 
touched thing,  the  unsinged  thing,  the  un- 
harmed thing.  The  glory  of  the  furnace  was 
its  failure.  The  glory  of  all  sorrow,  where  it 
has  glory,  is  its  failure.  I  could  not  praise  the 
setting  of  the  sun  if  it  did  not  bring  out  the 
beauty  of  the  evening  star. 

My  soul,  why  deemest  thou  that  thy  grief 
is  pleasing  to  thy  Father!  There  is  nothing 
pleasing  to  thy  Father  but  thy  joy.  What  He 
searches  for  in  thy  heart  is  not  the  pain,  but 
the  pearl.  He  longs  to  see  the  tenacity  of  thy 
joy — its  inability  to  be  extinguished.  Why 
was  Jesus  His  well-beloved?  Because  He  was 
the  man  of  sorrows?  Nay;  but  because  all  His 
sorrows  could  not  quench  His  joy.  Hast  thou 
not  read  that  under  the  shadow  of  the  cross 
He  cried  ^'  my  peace  I  give  unto  you  "  ?  That 
peace,  not  the  pain,  was  the  Father's  pearl.  It 
was  not  the  cloud  of  Jesus,  but  the  hozv  in  His 
cloud,  that  made  His  Father  glad.  So  it  is  with 
thee,  O  my  soul.     Why  does  thy  Father  send 


RETIREMENT  67 

thee  the  cloud?  To  test  the  immortahty  of 
thy  joy,  to  prove  whether  the  bow  can  abide  in 
the  flood,  to  see  if  the  dove  can  Hve  on  the 
waters.  Why  bring  Him  the  willow  when  He 
craves  for  the  rose?  Why  send  Him  the  cy- 
press when  He  seeks  for  the  laurel  ?  Why  offer 
Him  the  dirge  when  He  asks  for  the  song? 
He  shades  thy  sun,  not  to  see  thy  night,  but  to 
see  thy  candle — thy  innermost  source  of  joy. 
He  appreciates  thy  bearing  of  grief  because  it 
is  joy  alone  can  bear.  Thy  fires  to  Him  never 
become  cleansing  till  He  sees  the  gleam  and 
glitter  of  the  golden  chain. 


68  TIMES  OF 


"  SATAN'S  CHOICE  OF  A  LOCALITY '' 

Tempted  of  Satan  in  the  wilderness." — Mark  i.  13. 

WE  are  apt  to  think  that  Satan  is  most 
powerful  in  crowded  thoroughfares. 
It  is  a  mistake.  I  believe  the  temp- 
tations of  life  are  always  most  dangerous  in  the 
wilderness.  I  have  been  struck  with  that  fact  in 
Bible  history.  It  is  not  in  their  most  public 
moments  that  the  great  men  of  the  past  have 
fallen;  it  has  been  in  their  quiet  hours.  Moses 
never  stumbled  when  he  stood  before  Pharaoh, 
or  while  he  was  flying  from  Pharaoh;  it  was 
when  he  got  into  the  desert  that  his  patience 
began  to  fail.  David  never  stumbled  while  he 
was  fighting  his  way  through  opposing  armies; 
it  was  when  the  fight  was  over,  when  he  was 
resting  quietly  under  his  own  vine,  that  he  put 
forth  his  hand  to  steal.  The  sorest  tempta- 
tions are  not  those  spoken,  but  those  echoed. 
It  is  easier  to  lay  aside  your  besetting  sin  amid 


RETIREMENT  69 

a  cloud  of  witnesses  than  in  the  soHtiule  of 
your  own  room.  The  sin  that  besets  you  is 
never  so  beseeching  as  when  you  are  alone. 
You  may  say  kind  things  in  public  to  the  man 
you  hate;  but  you  make  up  for  it  in  the  wil- 
derness. It  is  our  thoughts  that  hurt  us;  and 
w^e  think  most  in  solitude.  Many  a  man  who 
resists  the  temptation  to  drunkenness  at  the  din- 
ner-table is  conquered  at  the  secret  hour.  Paul 
says  that  the  Christian  armour  is  most  needed 
after  we  have  vanquished  the  outward  foe, 
"  that  ye  may  be  able  to  withstand  in  the  evil 
day,  and,  having  done  all,  to  stand." 

O  Thou,  who  alone  hast  control  over  my 
thoughts,  help  me  in  the  wilderness.  Others 
can  help  me  in  the  market-place.  Others  can 
advise  me  at  the  festive  hour.  Others  can  re- 
strain me  at  the  meeting  of  the  multitude.  But 
Thou  alone  canst  help  my  wilderness.  And  it 
is  there  that  I  need  Thy  keeping,  O  Lord.  I 
speak  often  of  retiring  from  the  vanities  of  life; 
yet  it  is  in  retirement  that  the  vanities  of  life 
most  come  to  me.  My  vain  world  is  in  my  soul ; 
the  artist  that  paints  it  is  my  own  heart.  It  is 
not  when  I  go  to  the  marriage  feast  of  Cana 


70  TIMES  OF 

that  I  have  most  need  of  Thee;  it  is  when  I 
hear  the  music  and  the  dancing,  and,  through 
envy  of  my  brother,  refuse  to  go  in.  This  is 
my  moment  of  worldHness  because  this  is  my 
desert  moment — my  separation  from  human 
sympathy.  Meet  me  in  my  desert,  O  Christ,  for 
it  is  my  world  of  vanity.  Meet  me  in  my  hour 
of  separation  from  human  interests.  Meet 
me  when  I  have  lost  the  voices  of  the  crowd. 
Meet  me  when  I  walk  in  the  wilderness  and 
strive  to  forget  the  cities  of  men.  Meet  me 
when  I  despair  of  the  outer  world,  when  I 
malign  its  streets  and  gates,  when  I  despise  its 
courts  and  palaces.  The  contact  with  my 
brother  man  will  break  the  worldliness  of  the 
wilderness;  dispel  that  wilderness,  O  Lord. 


RETIREMJlNT 


7^ 


"  A  GROUNDLESS  FEAR  OF  GOD  " 

"  Edom  refused   to   give  Israel  passage   through   his 
border." — Numbers  xx.  21. 

THE  world  has  all  along  been  refusing  to 
let  Christ  through.  It  has  never  had 
room  for  Him  within  the  inn;  it  has 
relegated  Him  to  the  manger.  It  wants  Him 
to  be  kept  apart.  It  is  willing  to  visit  Him 
occasionally  in  the  manger — even,  at  times, 
to  bring  a  little  gold  and  frankincense.  But 
it  does  not  wish  Him  to  become  a  force  in  its 
own  affairs.  Why  so;  what  is  it  afraid  of? 
The  same  thing  which  Edom  feared.  Edom 
was  afraid  that  the  hordes  of  Israel  would  tear 
up  her  cultivated  fields  and  destroy  her  na- 
tional produce.  The  world  fears  that  Christ  will 
tear  up  human  instincts  and  make  men  un- 
natural. The  world  is  wrong;  we  are  never 
so  natural  as  when  we  are  Christians.  What 
kills  naturalness  is  self-consciousness;  it  makes 


72  TIMES  OF 

us  either  too  confident  or  too  shy.  When  I 
am  too  confident  I  am  thinking  about  myself; 
when  I  am  too  shy  I  am  equally  thinking  about 
myself.  In  both  cases  the  mirror  of  myself  is 
the  prominent  thing.  What  will  break  the 
mirror?  A  larger  environment.  Why  are 
travelled  people  so  nice?  It  is  because  they  are 
so  natural.  And  why  are  they  so  natural? 
It  is  because  their  eyes  have  rested  on  a  wider 
sphere.  They  have  forgot  their  own  great- 
ness; they  have  forgot  their  own  humility; 
they  have  forgot  to  think  about  themselves 
at  all — they  have  smashed  their  mirror. 

So  shall  it  be  with  thee,  my  soul,  if  thou 
wilt  let  Christ  in.  Thou  shalt  become  for 
the  first  time  perfectly  natural.  Thou  shalt 
be  a  travelled  man — the  most  travelled  of  all 
men.  Before  thee  shall  stretch  the  general  as- 
sembly of  the  firstborn — the  biggest  scene  in 
the  universe.  The  things  around  thee  shall 
lose  their  importance  either  as  a  cross  or  as 
a  crown.  Thou  shalt  forget  to  be  proud,  thou 
shalt  forget  to  be  humble.  There  shall  come  to 
thee  a  larger  love,  w^hich  shall  destroy  both 
vaunting  and  shrinking.    Perfect  health  neither 


RETIREMENT  yj 

says  ''  I  am  sick  "  nor  "  I  am  well;  "  it  is  un- 
consciousness of  its  own  breathing.     So  shall 
it  be   with   thee   when    Christ   shall    enter   in. 
Thou  shalt  become  spontaneous,  natural,  free. 
Thine  shall  be  the  singing  of  the  brook,  the 
warbling  of  the  bird,  the  kindling  of  the  flower. 
There  shall  be  no  pausing  for  effect,  no  posing 
for  attitudes,  no  angling  for  favour,  no  trying 
to  seem.     No  more  shalt  thou  study  the  right 
thing  to  say;  it  shall  be  given  thee  in  the  mo- 
ment—love's moment.     Thy  goodness  shall  be 
grace— something  native    to    thy    life.      Thy 
kindness  shall  be  instinctive— born  in  thy  blood. 
Thy  sacrifice  shall  be  unconscious — part  of  thy 
being.     Thy  service  shall  be  easy— an  expres- 
sion of  thine  own  heart.     It  is  sin  that  has 
made  thee  unnatural;  thou  shalt  be  a  child  of 
nature  again  when  thou  hast  let  Christ  in. 


74 


TIMES  OF 


"  THE  HOTTEST  PART  OF  LIFE'S 
FURNACE " 

"Jesus  suffered  without  the  gate.  Let  us  go  forth 
therefore  unto  Him  without  the  camp,  bearing  His  re- 
proach."— Hebrews  xiii.  12,  13. 

THERE  are  two  kinds  of  sorrow  in  this 
world.  There  is  a  sorrow  which  is 
incurred  in  the  path  of  duty — a  sor- 
row within  the  gate,  within  the  camp.  It  con- 
sists in  a  soldier's  fatigues,  in  a  soldier's 
wounds.  But  there  is  a  sorrow  which  seems 
to  debar  from  the  path  of  duty — which  comes 
to  us  outside  the  gate,  outside  the  camp.  It 
consists  in  a  soldier  being  stricken  by  sickness 
ere  the  campaign  opens,  held  back  from  the 
service  of  his  country.  When  this  latter  hap- 
pens to  any  of  us  we  are  very  perplexed  in 
mind;  we  seem  to  have  been  thwarted  by 
heaven.  We  feel  as  if  our  fellow-men  were 
reproaching  us  for  being  cast  upon  their  hands, 


RETIREMENT  75 

blaming  us  for  being  a  burden  to  the  world. 
The  sorrow  in  the  path  of  duty  could  be  toler- 
ated; but  it  is  hard  to  bear  that  sense  of  re- 
proach which  comes  from  the  sorrow  outside 
the  camp. 

My  afflicted  brother,  the  writer  of  this  pas- 
sage has  a  great  comfort  for  you.  He  says 
that  Christ's  case  was  one  like  yours.  He  bids 
you  in  such  moments  of  depression  to  come  into 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  There  you  will  see 
a  sufferer  whose  sorrow  was  outside  the  camp. 
He  bore  no  visible  wound,  no  mark  of  shot  or 
shell.  He  carried  no  scar  that  told  of  battle 
won.  It  seemed  to  those  around  Him  that  He 
had  never  joined  the  battle.  He  bore  the  re- 
proach of  being  a  burden  on  the  world,  of  do- 
ing nothing  to  win  the  kingdom  for  humanity, 
of  leading  a  life  useless  to  man.  Yet,  my 
brother,  no  service  was  ever  like  the  service  of 
that  sick-bed.  In  His  seeming  uselessness  He 
was  doing  gigantic  work,  herculean  work, 
world  work.  When  I  want  to  measure  His 
work  I  go  to  the  Garden — the  place  of  seeming 
uselessness.  I  do  not  go  to  His  crowded 
moments — to  the  multitude  that  thronged  His 


76  TIMES  OF 

breaking  of  bread,  to  tbe  concourse  that  swelled 
His  audience  on  the  Hill.  No;  I  go  down  to 
His  lonely  hour — I  and  the  world  together. 
I  and  the  world  magnify  that  moment  when 
men  said  He  was  laid  aside,  shunted,  left  be- 
hind. We  find  it  the  brightest  day  of  all  His 
golden  year.  We  crown  Him  with  the  flowers 
of  His  Gethsemane;  we  load  Him  with  the 
wreaths  of  His  Calvary;  we  keep  as  His  natal 
day  the  night  on  which  He  was  betrayed.  Ye 
who  are  suffering  outside  the  camp,  rest  with 
Him  in  the  Garden  awhile. 


RETIREMENT  77 


"  CHRISTIAN  EMULATION  " 

"  Even  so  ye,  forasmuch  as  ye  are  zealous  of  spiritual 
gifts,  seek  that  ye  may  excel  to  the  edifying  of  the 
Church." — I  Cor.  xiv.  12. 

CC^EEK  to  excel."  What  a  strange  pre- 
1/^  cept  for  a  gospel  of  love!  Is  not  the 
wish  to  excel,  a  very  bad  thing?  Is 
it  not  the  root  of  most  of  the  evil  in  the  world  ? 
Is  it  not  the  cause  of  jarrings  and  jealousies 
and  jostlings  ?  Does  it  not  raise  heart-burnings 
different  from  those  of  the  disciples  on  the 
road  to  Emmaus  ?  Yes ;  but  look  at  the  passage 
again.  Look  at  the  reason  given  for  the  pre- 
cept :  Forasmuch  as  ye  are  zealous  of  spiritual 
gifts.  Paul  says  if  they  had  been  zealous  for 
material  gifts  he  would  have  given  very  dif- 
ferent advice.  To  excel  in  a  material  gift  means 
to  excel  others.  The  possession  of  outward 
fame  depends  on  your  superiority;  the  beauty 
of  a  particular  type  of  face  lies  in  its  rarity. 


78  TIMES  OF 

But  to  excel  in  spiritual  gifts  is  not  to  excel 
others;  it  is  to  surpass  our  former  selves.  The 
value  of  a  spiritual  gift  depends  on  its  diffusive- 
ness— on  the  number  of  people  that  have  it 
besides  myself.  Joy  dies  unless  it  is  shared. 
Love  breaks  the  heart  unless  it  is  reciprocated. 
Knowledge  makes  a  solitude  if  it  is  possessed  by 
one  alone — the  solitude  of  the  Son  of  Man.  The 
gold  of  the  outward  world  is  precious 'from  its 
scarcity;  but  the  gold  of  the  kingdom  of  God 
grows  precious  as  it  becomes  ample. 

My  soul,  wouldst  thou  know  whether  thy 
gift  is  spiritual  or  temporal?  Ask  thyself  the 
question,  Why  do  I  wish  to  excel  in  it?  Is  it 
that  men  may  say,  "  He  walketh  among  the 
golden  candlesticks;  he  is  the  chief  among  ten 
thousand  "  ?  Then  thy  gift  is  temporal — a  poor 
fragile,  earthly  thing.  But  is  it  that  thou  mayst 
make  others  rich  ?  Is  it  that  thou  mayst  share 
with  those  around  thee?  Is  it  that  men  may 
cease  to  say  of  thee,  *  He  is  the  chief  among 
ten  thousand  "  ?  Is  it  that  thou  mayst  make 
thy  brother  glad?  Is  it  that  thy  voice  may 
cheer  the  toiling,  that  thy  song  may  brighten 
the  invalid,  that  thy  reading  may  instruct  the 


RETIREMENT  79 

blind,  that  thy  painted  flower  may  gladden  the 
infirmary,  that  thy  music  may  beguile  a  sister's 
hour  of  weariness,  that  thy  poetry  may  kindle 
the  aspiring  of  drooping  souls?  Then  is  thy 
gift  spiritual,  whatever  it  may  be.  Be  it  stone 
and  lime,  be  it  verse  and  rhyme,  be  it  earth  and 
time,  if  it  is  meant  for  ''  the  edifying  of  the 
Church  "  it  is  a  gift  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 


8o  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  REAL  WORLD  " 

"  Who  serve  unto  the  example  and  shadozv  of  heavenly 
things;  'See'  saith  He,  'that  thou  make  all  things  ac- 
cording to  the  pattern  showed  to  thee  in  the  Mount.' " 

Hebrews  viii.  5. 

WE  speak  of  the  dead  as  being  in  the 
land  of  shadows.  ''  Shades  of  the 
dead"  is  a  famiHar  expression;  it 
suggests  that  the  next  hfe  is  an  unreal  life. 
The  view  of  the  writer  to  the  Hebrews  is  ex- 
actly the  opposite.  To  him  the  spiritual  world 
is  the  only  real  world,  and  the  natural  world 
is  the  land  of  shadows.  Listead  of  the  future 
life  being  a  sleep  in  which  we  shall  dream  of 
earth,  earth  is  a  sleep  in  which  we  dream  of  the 
future  life.  We  sometimes  ask  whether  we  shall 
carry  any  pictures  with  us  beyond  the  grave. 
This  writer  says  we  have  fallen  into  a  strange 
misconception.  We  think  of  heaven  as  needing 
the  photographs  of  earth  to  wake  earthly  mem- 


RETIREMENT  8i 

ory.  He  says  that  earthly  objects  are  themselves 
the  photographs  of  heaven.  The  Mount  of 
God  does  not  need  to  be  made  after  the  pattern 
of  the  human;  the  human  has  already  been 
fashioned  after  the  pattern  of  the  Mount  of 
God. 

My  soul,  hast  thou  weighed  the  comfort  of 
this  revelation!  Often  have  I  heard  thee  say, 
''  What  if  the  future  should  be  to  me  a  foreign 
land !  "  Often  have  I  heard  thee  ask,  "  Is  there 
anything  which  man  will  carry  over  from  earth 
to  heaven?  "  Hast  thou  reflected  what  God  has 
carried  over  from  heaven  to  earth !  Hast  thou 
considered  that  the  best  within  thee  is  only  the 
shadow  of  something  more  substantial !  Hast 
thou  pondered  the  heavenly  origin  of  things 
which  thou  callest  earthly  realities!  Thou 
speakest  of  earthly  ties— the  ties  of  family  and 
home.  Where  did  these  come  from?  From 
the  Fatherhood  of  God,  from  the  Sonship  of 
Christ.  Thou  speakest  of  the  marriage  ring. 
Where  did  that  come  from  ?  From  the  bridal 
supper  of  the  Lamb.  Thou  speakest  of  the  joys 
of  love.  Where  did  these  come  from?  From 
the    Love    that    passeth    knowledge.       Thou 


82  TIMES  OF 

speakest  of  the  sights  of  beauty.  Where  did 
these  come  from?  From  Him  who  is  fairer 
than  the  children  of  men.  Thou  speakest  of 
thy  career  of  ambition.  Where  did  that  come 
from?  From  the  Son  of  Man  ascending  to 
His  Father.  O  my  soul,  thou  hast  mistaken  thy 
true  home;  heaven  is  thy  home.  Thou  art  not 
going  to  travel  at  death;  thou  art  travelling 
now.  This  is  thy  foreign  land.  What  thou 
callest  present  reality  is  but  a  memory — an 
echo  of  far-off  bells.  Death  will  not  reach  the 
bells;  it  will  only  make  thee  independent  of  the 
echo.  The  distance  makes  the  sound  a  mere  re- 
flection ;  thou  shalt  hear  the  actual  chimes  when 
thou  shalt  reach  home. 


RETIREMENT  g^ 


"  CHRISTIAN  SIMPLICITY '' 

"  But  I  fear,  lest  by  any  means,  as  the  serpent  beguiled 
Eve  through  his  subtilty,  so  your  minds  should  be  cor- 
rupted from  the  simplicity  that  is  in  Christ." 

2  Cor.  xi.  3. 

THE  simplicity  spoken  of  is  not  simplicity 
of  thought  but  simplicity  of  choice. 
When    Christ   bids   us   "receive   the 
kingdom  as  a  child  "  He  is  not  asking  sim- 
plicity of  thought.     Children  are  not  simple  in 
thought.     Look  at  the  fearful  questions  they 
put—"  Who  made  God  ?  "    "  Where  do  the  fig- 
ures go  when  they  are  rubbed  off  the  slate?  "— 
questions  for  the  philosopher,  for  the  scientist. 
But  children  are  very  simple  in  their  choice. 
A  child  never  sees  more  than  two  alternatives; 
a  thing  is  either  good  or  bad,  right  or  wrong, 
beautiful  or  ugly.     Paul  says  that  in  the  moral 
world  man   has  lost  that  simplicity;   the  ser- 
pent has  beguiled  him  as  it  did  Eve.    How  did 


84  TIMES  OF 

the  serpent  beguile  Eve?  By  obscuring  the 
simplicity  of  the  question  at  issue.  Sin  would 
never  succeed  unless  it  first  obscured  the  ques- 
tion. Would  any  man  hesitate  between  God 
and  Satan  if  the  simple  alternatives  were  placed 
before  him!  But  then  the  simple  alternatives 
are  never  placed  before  him.  The  lower  world 
is  always  painted  in  fair  colours.  It  has  stolen 
the  flowers  of  Paradise  and  claimed  them  as  its 
own.  I  never  choose  sin  because  it  looks  bad, 
but  because  it  looks  manly.  The  danger  of 
sin  is  its  counterfeit  of  glory.  Satan  in  the 
wilderness  is  quite  a  Christian.  He  says  to 
Christ,  ''  If  you  follow  me  I  will  help  you  to 
fulfil  your  mission  more  quickly."  So  speaks 
to  all  youth  the  hour  of  temptation. 

Help  me,  O  Lord,  to  unclothe  the  tempter 
— to  divest  him  of  his  disguise.  Much  of  my 
service  to  him  is  an  unconscious  homage  to 
Thcc.  I  mistake  the  altar  on  which  I  lay  my 
flowers.  I  have  never  said,  either  with  heart 
or  lip,  "  Let  me  build  a  temple  to  Satan."  If 
I  loved  Satan  I  should  have  said  it  long  ago. 
But  I  have  loved  Thee,  and  Thee  only.  I  have 
seen  in  the  grounds  of  the  tempter  things  that 


RETIREMENT  85 

were  ''  pleasant  to  the  eyes;  "  but  they  were  all 
stolen  from  Thy  garden;  their  perfume  was 
the  perfume  of  Eden.  Let  me  regain  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  child's  vision — not  shallowness  of 
view  but  depth  of  contrast.  Let  me  cease  to 
call  duelling  an  affair  of  honour,  war  a  military 
glory,  atheism  a  freedom  of  thought,  immor- 
ality a  life  of  pleasure,  drunkenness  an  hour 
of  good-fellowship.  Let  me  cease  to  clothe  the 
bird  of  night  in  the  plumes  of  the  bird  of  para- 
dise. Give  me  the  child's  uncompromising 
power  of  choice — ''  I  like  this,"  "  I  do  not  like 
that."  Let  me  see  the  King  in  His  beauty;  let 
me  behold  the  slave  in  his  deformity.  May 
Thy  day  have  no  cloud;  may  the  tempter's 
night  have  no  star.  I  shall  reach  the  power  of 
childhood  when  I  have  learned  the  simplicity 
of  a  choice  betwixt  two. 


86  TIMES  OF 


"  RELIGION  AND  IMMORTALITY  " 

'*  The  dead  praise  not  the  Lord,  neither  any  that  go 
down  into  silence.  But  zve  zvill  bless  the  Lord  from  this 
time  forth  and  for  evermore." — Psalm  cxv.  17,  18. 

I  SHOULD  be  disposed  to  call  this  the 
earliest  Jewish  argument  for  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul.  I  understand  the 
Psalmist  to  mean :  "If  the  end  of  man  were 
death,  he  would  not  during  life  have  the  instinct 
of  praise.  A  race  of  mortals  destined  to  noth- 
ing but  mortality  would  be  a  race  silent  to  re- 
ligion. Men  designed  for  the  dust  would  not 
lift  their  eyes  and  their  voices  in  worship.  The 
fact  that  we  do  lift  our  eyes  in  worship  is  a 
proof  that  the  grave  is  not  our  goal."  Nor 
does  it  seem  to  me  that  the  Psalmist  reasons 
badly.  Why  should  man  have  a  faculty  above 
his  environment !  If  he  is  made  exclusively  for 
this  world,  why  should  he  seek  another!  If 
death  ends  all,  I  have  a  sense  here  that  I  do  not 


RETIREMENT  87 

need.  I  need  all  other  of  my  senses  here.  I 
need  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  hand,  the  taste,  the 
thrill  of  joy,  the  instinct  of  fear — ahove  all, 
that  balance  of  the  whole  called  cominon-sQnse. 
But  I  do  not  need  the  sense  of  another  world; 
it  is  useless  to  me,  it  impedes  me.  I  require  the 
earthly  hunger  to  guide  me  to  the  earthly  food; 
but  if  there  be  no  future,  where  shall  the  heav- 
enly hunger  guide  me !  Only  to  the  depths  of 
despair.  Where  has  that  heavenly  hunger  come 
from?  I  cry  for  earthly  bread  because  I  am 
prepared  for  that  bread,  because  that  bread  is 
prepared  for  me.  But  if  there  be  no  prepara- 
tion for  a  future  in  my  soul,  why  does  my  soul 
cry  for  it!  Wherefore  should  an  accent  of 
praise  come  from  those  who  go  down  into 
silence ! 

I  thank  Thee,  O  Father,  that  there  is  a  voice 
within  me  which  contradicts  the  silence  of 
death.  I  thank  Thee  for  my  necessity  to  pray. 
It  is  the  only  gift  that  comes  to  me  direct  from 
Thee.  I  never  got  it  from  the  earth  nor  from 
aught  that  was  earthly.  It  has  been  strongest 
in  me  just  where  the  world  was  weakest.  It 
has  come  to  me  most  powerfully  when  the  roses 


88  TIMES  OF 

liave  faded  and  the  trees  are  bereft  of  their 
green.  It  has  often  been  the  last  survivor  in 
my  soul.  It  has  lived  when  the  world  has  died. 
It  has  come  to  me  when  the  flower  has  lost  its 
perfume  and  the  bird  has  ceased  to  sing-.  Like 
the  disciples  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration, 
I  have  seen  Thee  when  the  cloud  has  fallen  on 
all  beside;  I  have  seen  Thee  and  I  have  cried  to 
Thee.  My  cry  to  Thee  has  been  like  the  ark  in 
the  flood;  it  has  risen  above  a  submerged  world. 
Therefore,  O  Father,  it  is  my  olive  branch  of 
peace.  It  tells  me  I  have  something  that  will 
not  die,  not  go  down  to  silence.  My  rainbow 
of  hope  has  come  from  my  path  of  tears;  I 
have  learned  in  my  tears  what  things  the  deluge 
cannot  drown.  They  that  praise  Thee  shall 
praise  Thee  forever. 


RETIREMENT  89 


"  THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  HEAVENLY 
RANK  " 

"  Every  man  in  his  own  order:  Christ  the  first-fruits; 
afterzvard  they  that  are  Christ's." — i  Cor.  xv.  23. 

THE  influence  of  caste  would  seem  to  be 
ineradicable.  We  are  told  that  God 
has  levelled  down  all  men  in  a  common 
condemnation ;  yet  here  we  read  "  every  man 
shall  rise  in  his  own  order."  Why  not?  If 
you  were  to  reduce  all  men  to  one  level  to-day, 
they  would  be  quite  unequal  to-morrow;  the 
best  men  would  come  to  the  front  in  a  few 
hours.  "  But,"  you  say,  "  I  expected  better 
things  of  heaven.  I  thought  in  the  other  world 
we  should  be  done  with  all  this  cutting  and 
carving,  this  separation  of  masses  and  classes, 
this  raising  of  barriers  between  man  and  man. 
How  it  disappoints  me  to  hear  that  a  man  has 
to  keep  his  own  order !  "  Nay  but,  my  brother, 
"what  is  the  order?     Who  are  those  that  are  to 


go  TIMES  OF 

stand  in  front  of  the  throne?  It  is  the  men  of 
sacrifice — the  men  who  have  most  power  to 
hurst  the  barriers.  Christ  is  ''  the  first-fruits  " 
because  Christ  has  gone  deepest  down.  Then 
come  ''  they  that  are  Christ's  " — they  that  have 
washed  their  robes  in  the  blood  of  self-forget- 
fulness.  Behind  them  are  the  rank  and  file — 
those  who  are  still  unfit  for  service,  who  them- 
selves need  to  be  served.  These  are  the  in- 
valids of  the  camp;  they  require  to  be  waited 
upon;  they  go  not  forth  to  battle  against  sin 
and  Satan.  In  the  present  world  they  would 
have  been  called  the  people  of  means,  people  of 
independence,  people  who  keep  attendants;  but 
in  the  coming  world  the  attendants  themselves 
are  to  have  the  first  room. 

Prepare  me  for  my  heavenly  rank,  O  Lord! 
Thou  hast  said  that  the  least  shall  be  greatest 
in  Thy  Kingdom;  prepare  me  for  my  coming 
high  position.  I  speak  of  preparing  for  death ; 
that  is  an  easy  thing;  I  have  only  to  practise 
torpor.  But  the  hard  thing  is  to  practise  for 
that  which  makes  heavenly  greatness.  I  could 
easily  make  ready  for  earthly  greatness;  I 
should  learn  to  domineer  in  a  week.     But  to 


RETIREMENT  91 

serve,  to  help,  to  minister,  to  perform  menial 
offices,  to  retire  into  the  shade  that  another's 
light  may  shine — that  needs  a  long  education. 
I  have  often  wondered  why  helpful  souls  are 
taken  away  by  death.  I  do  not  wonder  any 
more.  I  leave  school  when  I  am  fit  for  this 
world;  the  ministrant  souls  leave  school  when 
they  are  fit  for  Thy  world;  they  are  the  ripest 
fruits  of  the  garden,  and  they  are  ripened  by 
fire.  The  front  flowers  are  Thy  Gethsemane 
flowers — Thy  Passion  flowers.  My  place  in 
the  New  Jerusalem  will  be  determined  by  my 
conquest  of  exclusiveness;  and  nothing  con- 
quers exclusiveness  like  pain.  They  who  have 
passed  through  the  furnace  of  earth  come  out 
to  Thee  unbound.  They  are  freed  from  the 
shackles  of  all  caste;  therefore  they  are  the 
prime-ministers  of  Thy  Kingdom. 


92  TIMES  OF 


"  RENEWAL  IN  CHRIST  " 

"He  that  sat  upon  the  throne  said  'Behold,  I  make 
all  things  new.'  " — Rev.  xxi.  5. 

TO  make  things  new  is  not  the  same  as  to 
make  new  things.  To  make  new 
things  is  the  work  of  the  hand;  to 
make  things  new  is  the  work  of  the  heart. 
Whenever  one  sits  upon  the  throne  of  the  heart, 
all  things  are  made  new.  They  are  made  so 
without  changing  a  line,  without  altering  a 
feature.  Enthrone  in  your  heart  an  object  of 
love,  and  you  have  renewed  the  universe.  You 
have  given  an  added  note  to  every  bird,  a  fresh 
joy  to  every  brook,  a  fairer  tint  to  every  flower. 
The  greater  part  of  this  world  is  painted  from 
•within.  Its  deepest  colours  are  given  to  the 
eye  by  the  heart;  when  the  heart  grows  pale, 
nature  grows  wan.  When  Christ  sits  upon  the 
throne  of  the  heart,  He  brings  roses  to  the  field. 
He  does  not  make  new  things,  but  He  makes 


RETIREMENT 


93 


things  new.  I  do  not  think  we  are  aware  how 
much  the  value  of  a  thing  depends  upon  a 
thought.  What  is  the  difference  between  the 
wound  inflicted  by  the  surgeon  and  the  wound 
inflicted  by  the  malefactor  ?  It  is  a  thought — 
the  difference  between  a  purpose  of  pain  and  a 
purpose  of  mercy.  Such  is  the  change  which, 
to  me,  Christ  makes  on  this  world.  It  is  a 
mental  change — altering  the  physical  view. 
It  is  just  the  difference  between  a  purpose  of 
pain  and  a  purpose  of  love.  I  once  thought  the 
ills  of  life  were  messages  of  vengeance — the 
thunderbolts  of  a  vindictive  God.  But  when 
Christ  mounted  my  heart's  throne,  the  thun- 
derbolts became  musical.  Death  was  a  chariot 
to  bear  me  home.  Pain  was  an  operation  to 
heal  disease.  Bereavement  was  a  lifting  of  my 
treasures  to  a  safer  bank.  Poverty  was  the 
test  of  my  love.  Clouds  were  the  trial  of  my 
faith.  Surprise  was  the  proof  of  my  patience. 
The  fires  of  life  were  the  cleansing  of  the  golden 
chain. 

O  Thou  who  art  seated  upon  the  throne  of 
the  heart,  my  knowledge  of  Thy  love  has  made 
all  things  fair.     The  emerald  rainbow  of  my 


94  TIMES  OF 

soul  has  put  new  lights  in  the  sky.  Yesterday 
the  whole  creation  was  groaning  and  travaihng 
in  spirit;  but  it  was  in  spirit,  not  in  fact;  it 
was  a  thought  in  the  soul  that  put  sackcloth 
on  the  sky.  To-day  there  has  come  a  new 
thought  to  my  soul;  and  creation  groans  no 
more.  The  world  has  caught  fire  from  the  joy 
of  my  love;  the  heavens  declare  its  glory;  the 
earth  showeth  its  handiwork.  Not  only  does 
the  Jay  sing  it;  the  very  night  reflects  it.  Dark 
places  have  caught  the  glow  of  Thy  presence. 
Every  valley  has  been  exalted;  service  has  been 
ennobled,  sacrifice  has  been  beautified,  patient 
suffering  has  been  reverenced,  humility  has  been 
made  regal,  self-restraint  has  been  glorified,  the 
sharing  of  sorrow  has  been  called  blessed,  the 
surrender  of  the  will  has  been  called  Divine. 
The  virtues  of  the  vale  have  become  the  merits 
of  the  mount;  the  poor  in  spirit  have  the  king- 
dom, the  meek  have  the  inheritance,  the  sacrifi- 
cial have  the  comfort,  the  unsatisfied  have  the 
promise,  the  merciful  have  the  crown,  the  peace- 
makers have  the  royalty,  the  martyrs  for  truth 
have  the  empire  over  all.  Jesus,  the  very 
thought  of  Thee  has  made  this  world  new! 


RETIREMENT 


95 


"  THE  SLAVERY  WHICH  GLORIFIES  " 

"  Yc  arc  not  your  own.  For  ye  are  bought  zvith  a 
price;  therefore  glorify  God  in  yotir  body,  and  in  your 
spirit,  zi'hich  are  God's." — i  Cor.  vi.  19,  20. 

THIS  is  the  only  note  of  triumph  I  have 
ever  heard  sounded  over  the  condition 
of  a  slave.  Is  it  not  a  marvellous  note  ? 
''  Ye  are  not  your  own ;  ye  are  bought  with  a 
price ;  ye  are  the  property  of  another ;  therefore 
glorify  your  master  in  your  body  and  in  your 
spirit."  Can  slavery  glorify  either  a  servant 
or  his  master!  Can  it  glorify  the  body;  does 
it  not  bring  weariness!  Can  it  glorify  the 
spirit;  does  it  not  bring  depression!  How 
could  Paul  thus  speak  of  a  slave!  Because 
there  is  one  kind  of  slavery  which  does  glorify 
both  the  servant  and  the  master;  it  is  love. 
The  heart  is  never  glorified  till  it  gets  an  owner. 
Before  that  time  body  and  spirit  are  very  list- 
less.    But  when  the  owner  comes,  when  love 


96  TIMES  OF 

comes,  then  body  and  spirit  leap  up  together; 
the  eye  sparkles;  the  cheek  mantles;  the  feet 
bound;  the  laugh  rings;  the  pulse  beats  quicker; 
the  yoke  becomes  easy,  and  the  burden  light. 
There  is  no  homage  to  the  master  of  a  heart  like 
the  glory  of  that  heart.  When  it  brightens  at 
his  presence,  when  it  leaps  at  his  approach,  he  is 
glorified.  He  would  not  feel  his  ownership 
complete  if  it  did  not  bring  this  glory,  for  the 
proof  of  my  mastery  over  your  heart  is  the 
gleam  and  glitter  of  its  chain. 

I  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  for  this  one  slavery — 
the  bondage  of  my  heart.  It  is  the  charter  of 
my  glory.  All  the  beauty  of  my  heart  lies  in 
its  chain;  it  sparkles  most  where  it  is  bound. 
Never  let  there  come  to  me  an  emancipation  of 
the  heart.  I  would  have  freedom  in  all  else. 
Let  the  hands  be  free,  let  the  mind  be  free,  let 
the  will  be  free;  but  let  the  heart  ever  have  its 
chain.  Thou  whose  name  is  Love,  let  me  ever 
be  Thy  bondsman.  I  would  not  be  the  bonds- 
man of  any  power  but  Thee.  There  are  things 
in  which  I  should  always  like  to  be  independent. 
I  should  not  like  my  body  to  be  fettered;  I 
should  not  wish  my  reason  to  be  bound.     But 


RETIREMENT 


97 


I  should  always  covet  Thy  chain — Love's  chain. 
I  should  not  wish  the  independence  of  the  heart. 
I  should  not  like  to  have  nobody  to  care  for.  I 
should  not  desire  my  affections  to  escape  from 
the  cage  and  be  free.  Love,  Divine  Love,  Im- 
mortal Love,  be  Thou  the  master  of  my  soul ! 


98  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  RELATION  OF  THEISM  TO 
CHRISTIANITY  " 

"Every    man    therefore    that    hath    heard    and    hath 
learned  of  the  Father,  corneth  unto  me." — ^John  vi.  45. 

THE  idea  is  that  if  a  man  believe  in  a  per- 
sonal God  he  ought,  if  he  would  be 
logical,  to  accept  Christianity.  Every 
man  that  has  learned  of  the  Father  should,  in 
strict  reason,  come  to  the  Son  also.  There  are 
men  who  call  themselves  Deists.  They  say, 
''  Have  we  not  a  God  of  nature — a  God  who 
meets  the  eye;  why  supplement  that  faith  by 
a  mystery?  "  Jesus  answers  **  to  clear  away  a 
mystery — the  silence  of  this  God  of  nature." 
The  God  of  nature  meets  the  eye;  why  does 
not  He  also  meet  the  ear?  Nature,  you  say, 
teaches  you  that  there  is  a  Father.  It  is  well ; 
but  why  does  not  that  Father  speak?  I  can 
understand  one  losing  sight  of  a  heavenly 
Father;  but   I  cannot  understand  one  having 


RETIREMENT  99 

Him  in  sight  and  yet  believing  in  His  silence. 
Can  you  imagine  any  father  sitting  beside  his 
little  boy  from  morn  to  eve  and  never  uttering  a 
word?  He  could  not;  he  would  l)c  hound  to 
speak.  It  would  be  quite  immaterial  whether 
he  said  anything  neiv.  Love  rarely  does 
say  anything  new ;  but  it  delights  to  rq^eat  its 
old  things.  It  is  not  the  rcc'clafion  that  is 
important;  it  is  the  revealing,  the  breaking  of 
the  silence,  the  communion  of  soul  wdth  soul. 

And  so,  my  Father,  is  it  with  Thee.  I  do  not 
know  whether  in  the  voice  of  Jesus  Thou  hast 
told  me  any  new  secret  about  the  universe.  It  is 
Thy  voice  itself  that  breaks  the  great  secret. 
I  have  received  little  light  on  old  mysteries. 
Thou  hast  told  me  nothing  new  about  the  origin 
of  life.  Thou  hast  left  unsolved  the  enigmas  of 
space  and  time.  But  Thou  hast  spoken.  Thou 
hast  said,  "  I  am  here;  "  that  is  all;  but  that  is 
heaven.  I  care  not  so  much  what  Thou  sayest 
as  that  I  should  hear  Thy  voice.  The  revela- 
tion I  want  from  Thee  is  the  revealing  of  Thy 
love.  I  care  not  though  it  should  only  tell  the 
old,  old  story.  I  reck  not  though  it  should  un- 
bar no  secret,  though  it  should  unclasp  no  mys- 


loo  TIMES  OF 

tery.  Only  let  it  speak — speak  truisms,  speak 
platitudes,  speak  repetitions.  Only  let  it 
sound  a  note  in  the  silence — a  note  which  shall 
say,  "  I  am  with  you,  I  remember  you,  I  love 
you."  Its  reiterations  will  be  the  dearest  mes- 
sage of  all ;  its  repetitions  willl  be  the  sweetest 
message  of  all;  its  old,  old  story  will  be  the 
gladdest  message  of  all.  My  love  will  never 
weary  of  hearing  the  refrain  of  Thine;  there- 
fore, even  though  nature  had  told  me  all,  I 
should  still  welcome  the  voice  of  Jesus. 


RETIREMENT  loi 


*'  A  SINGULAR  CHANGE  OF  FASHION  " 

"  The  world  is  gone  after  Him." — John  xii.  19. 

IT  is  not  often  that  fashion  originates  in  the 
provinces.  It  is  not  often  that  the  metro- 
politan press  sustains  the  reputation  of  a 
book  or  singer  on  the  authority  of  provincial 
journals.  It  is  the  lower  that  take  their  fashion 
from  the  higher.  Imagine  Belgravia  eagerly 
enquiring  for  the  latest  culture  of  Bohemia! 
Yet  here  is  a  complete  transformation  of  the 
higher  by  the  lower.  When  Christ  came  He 
was  the  opposite  of  the  fashion.  Cccsar  was 
the  fashion.  They  were  the  extremes  of  the 
social  ladder.  Caesar  w^as  proud;  Christ  was 
lowly.  Caesar  was  sceptred;  Christ  was 
scourged.  Caesar  had  the  crown  of  empire; 
Christ  had  the  crown  of  thorns.  Yet  Christ 
is  now  at  the  top,  and  Caesar  is  nowhere.  That 
IS  what  Paul  means  by  "  the  fashion  of  this  age 
passcth   away."     **  The   fashion   of  this  age  " 


I02  TIMES  OF 

means  "  the  fashion  of  the  Roman  Empire." 
We  have  lived  to  see  it  pass ;  we  have  Hved  to 
see  its  opposite  enthroned.  There  has  come  a 
new  ideal  of  manliness — a  reversed  ideal.  The 
chaplet  once  was  woven  for  the  men  who  strike ; 
it  is  now  wreathed  for  the  men  who  bear.  The 
mountain  virtues  are  the  things  once  called 
poor-spirited — courage  in  sorrow,  meekness  in 
trial,  mercy  in  judgment,  peacemaking  in  strife, 
purity  in  temptation ;  these  are  our  patterns  on 
the  modern  mount. 

And  they  are  all  from  Thee,  O  Jesus !  Thou 
hast  changed  the  fashion  of  the  world,  nay,  the 
fashion  of  my  dream.  I  have  come  to  admire 
what  I  once  despised — all  through  Thee.  It  is 
my  love  for  Thee  that  has  changed  my  standard 
of  greatness.  It  is  because  I  have  been  down 
with  Thee  in  Gethsemane ;  it  is  because  I  have 
climbed  with  Thee  the  steep  of  Calvary.  It  is 
not  the  altered  fashion  that  has  glorified  Thee; 
it  is  the  glory  of  Thee  that  has  altered  the 
fashion.  I  pass  along  the  old  road  and  behold 
great  changes.  I  see  no  decrepit  children  put 
out  to  die.  I  meet  no  helpless  invalids  left  to 
starve.      I    encounter   no    demoniacs    walking 


RKTIRKMRNT  103 

neglected  amid  the  tombs.  I  behold  no  deaf  or 
blind  crowding  the  highway  for  want  of  a 
home.  I  find  no  slave  standing  in  the  market 
for  sale.  I  miss,  above  all,  the  streaming 
throng  that  used  to  follow  the  wrestlers  in  the 
ring.  And  when  I  ask,  ''  Where  are  they  all 
gone — these  once  admiring  crowds?  "  some  pil- 
grim of  the  way  points  to  the  road  Thou  hast 
taken,  and  says  **  the  world  has  gone  after 
Himr 


I04  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  ARCHITECTURE  OF  MAN  " 

"  For  we  knotv  that  if  our  earthly  house  of  this  taber- 
nacle were  dissolved,  we  have  a  building  of  God.  Now 
He  that  hath  wrought  us  for  the  self-same  thing  is  God." 

2  Cor.  V.  I,  5. 

I  UNDERSTAND  the  meaning  to  be  that 
man  was  not  made,  or  '*  wrought,"  for  the 
present  world,  but  for  another  world ;  we 
are  living  in  a  shifting  tabernacle,  and  we  have 
the  furniture  of  a  permanent  building.  There 
are  three  sets  of  houses  with  which  we  come  in 
contact ;  two  of  them  are  quite  intelligible ;  the 
third  is  always  a  puzzle.  There  is  the  small 
house  with  poor  furniture;  we  know  that  this 
means  the  life  of  toil.  There  is  the  large 
house  with  grand  furniture ;  we  know  that  this 
means  the  life  of  riches.  But  there  is  a  third — 
the  small  house  with  grand  furniture ;  and  this 
mystifies  us.  There  is  an  incongruity  about  it. 
We  feel  that  the  furniture  was  not  made  for 


RETIREMENT 


105 


the  edifice — that  it  was  meant  for  another  and  a 
better  edifice.  So  it  is  with  man.  The  most 
pronounced  feature  about  him  is  his  incongru- 
ity. He  is  not  a  miserable  creature;  he 
is  not  a  divine  being;  he  is  a  mixture  of  both. 
He  is  a  Httle  house  with  gigantic  pretensions. 
The  furnishing  is  quite  inappropriate  to  the 
edifice.  Tlie  edifice  is  a  shifting  tabernacle  with 
no  permanent  resting-place.  But  in  front  of  it 
there  are  magnificent  grounds  laid  out — 
grounds  which  must  be  lost  unless  there  be  a 
permanent  building.  The  grounds  are  the  as- 
pirations in  front  of  reality.  We  are  confined 
within  a  narrow  space ;  but  we  are  seeking  noth- 
ing less  than  a  Christ. 

Yes,  Thou  fair  Christ,  I  am  in  search  of 
Thee!  From  my  tiny  window  I  stretch  out  my 
hands  to  catch  the  heavens.  It  is  not  only  in 
what  men  call  religion  that  I  seek  Thee ;  all  my 
aspirings  are  aspirings  after  Thee.  In  the 
study  of  art  I  am  seeking  Thee;  I  am  in  search 
of  a  perfect  beauty.  In  the  reading  of  fiction  I 
am  seeking  Thee;  I  am  trying  to  figure  a  life 
fairer  than  the  children  of  men.  In  the  love 
of  music  I  am  seeking  Thee;  I  am  striving  to 


io6  TIMES  OF 

imagine  a  harmony  deeper  than  that  of  the 
spheres.  Thou  art  the  inappropriate  garden  in 
front  of  my  tabernacle.  Therefore  I  know  that 
I  have  a  building  somewhere.  I  know  that 
these  permanent  grounds  would  never  be  laid 
out  for  a  shifting  tent.  I  know  that  the  electric 
light  would  never  have  been  furnished  for  a 
house  which  cannot  stay.  Thou  wouldst  not 
build  a  massive  ship  if  the  sea  were  to  be  dried 
up.  I  behold  as  yet  no  trace  of  the  waters ;  but 
the  ship  is  already  here;  that  is  my  hope  of 
glory. 


RETIREMENT  107 


'*  THE  VEILING  OF  GOD'S  FACE  " 

"  He  holdeth  back  the  face  of  His  throne,  and  spread- 
eth  His  cloud  upon  it." — Job  xxvi.  9. 

A  HIDING  of  God's  sovereignty  is  a  start- 
ling thing.  We  can  understand  a 
hiding  of  His  beauty,  for  the  beauty  of 
the  minor  chord  may  only  appear  in  the  sym- 
phony. We  can  understand  a  hiding  of  His 
counsels,  for  we  in  our  ignorance  might  not 
see  the  good  of  them.  But  we  should  always 
like  to  see  His  sovereignty.  The  most  startling 
thing  about  the  hiding  here  spoken  of  is  its  de- 
liberateness.  If  it  were  merely  said  that  man 
cannot  fathom  God,  we  should  accept  it  as  a 
truism.  But  it  is  God  Himself  who  here  de- 
signs the  unfathomableness.  There  is  a  double 
act  of  concealment.  He  first  ''  holds  back  the 
face  of  His  throne,"  and  then  "  spreads  a  cloud 
over  it."  It  is  an  elaborate  movement  for  veil- 
ing; and  it  disturbs  us.     But  consider  what 


io8  TIMES  OF 

is  veiled.  Is  it  really  the  throne  of  God  ?  No, 
it  is  only  the  face  of  the  throne.  The  face  of  the 
throne  is  that  which  looks  forward;  it  is  God's 
sovereignty  seen  in  advance.  He  will  not  re- 
veal that.  He  will  reveal  the  side  of  His  throne 
— He  will  give  strength  for  the  present  need. 
He  will  reveal  the  back  of  His  throne — He  will 
let  us  see  His  providence  in  retrospect.  But 
He  will  not  show  us  the  face  of  His  throne ;  He 
spreads  a  cloud  over  the  future  glory. 

And  is  this  not  well  for  thee,  O  my  soul !  Thy 
Father  does  not  wish  to  compel  thee  to  come  in ; 
He  would  have  thee  come  by  thine  own  will. 
Therefore  He  conceals  the  glory.  How  could 
any  man  resist  the  glory — the  face  of  the  throne 
of  God !  Would  not  such  a  vision  rob  thee  of 
thy  freedom!  Who  would  not  climb  the  hill 
of  God  if  it  were  always  crowned  with  sun- 
shine! If  there  is  too  much  light  there  can  be 
no  test  of  love.  It  is  easy  for  thee  to  seek  thy 
God  when  thou  seest  the  rainbow  of  emerald 
and  the  blaze  of  sapphire.  But  if  the  rainbow 
were  extinguished,  if  the  sapphire  blaze  were 
quenched,  if  the  face  of  His  throne  were  cov- 
ered, couldst  thou  seek  Him  tJieuF    If  it  were 


RETIREMENT  109 

to  be  proclaimed  that  there  would  be  no  judg- 
ment-seat, no  books  opened,  no  partition  be- 
tween the  right  hand  and  the  left,  would  virtue 
be  to  thee  still  as  beautiful?  Couldst  thou 
choose  her  in  plain  attire?  Couldst  thou  love 
her  without  God's  adoption  ring?  Couldst  thou 
wed  her  with  no  material  dowry  ?  Couldst  thou 
cherish  her  with  no  hope  of  reward?  Couldst 
thou  work  for  her,  toil  for  her,  sacrifice  for  her, 
though  through  the  midnight  air  there  came  no 
murmur  of  the  approaching  song  *'  Good  and 
faithful  servant,  well  done"?  Then  hast  thou 
vindicated  the  silence  of  God;  then  mayst  thou 
bless  thy  Father  that  He  has  held  back  from 
thee  the  face  of  His  throne. 


lo  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  MEN  WHO  HAVE  NO  WORK '' 

"  Sit  yc   here  while  I  go  and  pray  yonder." — Matt. 
xxvi.  36. 

IT  is  a  hard  thing  to  be  kept  in  the  back- 
ground at  a  time  of  crisis.  In  the  Garden 
of  Gethsemane  eight  of  the  eleven  dis- 
ciples were  left  to  do  nothing.  Jesus  went  to 
the  front  to  pray ;  Peter,  James,  and  John  went 
to  the  middle  to  watch ;  the  rest  sat  down  in  the 
rear  to  wait.  Methinks  that  party  in  the  rear 
must  have  murmured.  They  were  in  the 
garden,  but  that  was  all;  they  had  no  share  in 
the  cultivation  of  its  flowers.  It  was  a  time  of 
crisis,  a  time  of  storm  and  stress ;  and  yet  they 
were  not  suffered  to  work.  You  and  I  have 
often  felt  that  experience,  that  disappointment. 
There  has  arisen,  mayhap,  a  great  opportunity 
for  Christian  service.  Some  are  sent  to  the 
front;  some  are  sent  to  the  middle.  But  wc 
are  made  to  lie  down  in  the  rear.     Perhaps 


RETIREMENT 


II I 


sickness  has  come;  perhaps  poverty  has  come; 
perhaps  obloquy  has  come;  in  any  case  we  are 
hindered  and  we  feel  sore.  We  do  not  see  why 
we  should  be  excluded  from  a  part  in  the  Chris- 
tian life.  It  seems  an  unjust  thing  that,  seeing 
we  have  been  allowed  to  enter  the  garden,  no 
path  should  be  assigned  to  us  there. 

Be  still,  my  soul,  it  is  not  as  thou  deemest! 
Thou  are  not  excluded  from  a  part  of  the  Chris- 
tian life.  Thinkest  thou  that  the  garden  of  the 
Lord  has  only  a  place  for  those  who  walk  and 
for  those  who  stand!  Nay,  it  has  a  spot  con- 
secrated to  those  who  are  compelled  to  sit. 
There  are  three  voices  in  a  verlj — active, 
passive,  and  neuter.  So,  too,  are  there  three 
voices  in  Christ's  verb  ''  to  live."  There  are 
the  active,  wrestling  souls,  who  go  to  the  front, 
and  struggle  till  the  breaking  of  the  day.  There 
are  the  passive,  watching  souls,  who  stand  in 
the  middle,  and  report  to  others  the  progress  of 
the  fight.  But  there  are  also  the  neuter  souls — 
those  who  can  neither  fight  nor  be  spectators 
of  the  fight,  but  have  simply  to  lie  down.  When 
that  experience  comes  to  thee,  remember,  thou 
are  not  shunted.     Remember  it  is  Christ  that 


in  TIMES  OF 

says,  "  Sit  ye  here.'*  Thy  spot  in  the  garden 
has  also  been  consecrated.  It  has  a  special 
name.  It  is  not  ''  the  place  of  wrestling,"  nor 
**  the  place  of  watching,"  but  "  the  place  of 
waiting."  There  are  lives  that  come  into  this 
world  neither  to  do  great  work  nor  to  bear 
great  burdens,  but  simply  to  be;  they  are  the 
neuter  verbs.  They  are  the  flowers  of  the 
garden  which  have  had  no  active  mission. 
They  have  wreathed  no  chaplet;  they  have 
graced  no  table;  they  have  escaped  the  eye  of 
Peter  and  James  and  John.  But  they  have 
gladdened  the  sight  of  Jesus.  By  their  mere 
perfume,  by  their  mere  beauty,  they  have 
brought  Him  joy;  by  the  very  preservation  of 
their  loveliness  in  the  valley  they  have  lifted 
the  Master's  heart.  Thou  needst  not  murmur 
shouldst  thou  be  one  of  these  flowers ! 


RETIREMENT  113 


"  SPIRITUAL  ENVIRONMENT  " 


The  Lord  is  round  about  His  people." 

Psalm  cxxv.  2. 


iC  ^  M    ^HE     Lord     is     round     about     His 
I  people  " ;  that  is  the  same  thing  as 

to  say  "  the  Lord  is  the  environ- 
ment of  His  people;  "  to  "  be  round  about  "  is 
just  to  "  environ."  Now  the  environment  is  a 
very  important  thing.  There  is  nothing  so  sad 
as  to  be  unsuited  to  one's  environment.  When 
you  take  a  fish  out  of  the  water,  it  dies.  Why  ? 
Because  the  water  is  its  environment.  When 
you  keep  a  bird  from  the  open  air,  it  pines. 
Why  ?  Because  the  open  air  is  its  environment. 
When  you  debar  man  from  God,  he  both  pines 
and  dies.  Why?  Because  God  is  his  environ- 
ment. Man  is  the  only  creature  in  this  world 
that  does  not  know  what  is  good  for  him — does 
not  know  his  own  environment.  The  fish  darts 
from  the  hook  that  would  draw  it  nut  of  the 


114  TIMES  OF 

water.  The  bird  tries  to  escape  from  the  snare 
of  the  fowler.  But  man  is  very  easily  led  away 
from  his  water  of  life,  from  his  native  air.  He 
quits  the  real  water  for  a  painted  imitation  of 
it,  the  real  air  for  a  bit  of  coloured  space. 
Therefore  he  is  of  all  creatures  the  most  miser- 
able. He  is  not  happy  even  when  he  has  noth- 
ing to  complain  of.  It  is  not  enough  to  have 
nothing  to  complain  of ;  I  must  have  something 
to  rejoice  in.  It  is  not  enough  to  have  no  pain ; 
I  want  pleasure.  The  lower  creatures  are  not 
simply  unpained;  they  are  joyous;  they  dart 
in  the  water,  they  sing  in  the  air,  they  roam  in 
the  forest — they  revel  in  the  glories  of  the  day. 
/  am  not  like  these. 

And  yet,  my  soul,  thou  mighfst  be.  Thou, 
too,  hast  an  environment.  Thou  art  more  envi- 
roned by  thy  God  than  the  fish  is  by  the  water, 
than  the  bird  is  by  the  air.  Thy  God  is  all  round 
about  thee.  Other  creatures  have  mostly  but  one 
element;  thy  God  can  be  found  in  all  elements. 
His  boundlessness  is  in  the  water.  His  infini- 
tude is  in  the  air,  His  majesty  is  in  the  forest; 
thou  hast  of  all  others  the  key  to  the  most  doors. 
Wilt  thou  not  take  the  key,  O  my  soul !    Say 


RETIREMENT  i,^ 

not,  "  I  shall  be  happy  in  heaven ;  "  thy  God  is 
as  much  here  as  in  heaven.  Why  speakest  thou 
of  the  limits  of  earth  !  What  thou  neeclest  from 
earth  is  not  one  limit  less  but  one  limit  more. 
Wouldst  thou  be  quite  happy  here  and  every- 
where ?  Then  must  thou  be  limited  by  thy  God, 
environed  by  thy  God.  Thy  God  must  become 
thine  element— the  water  of  thy  life,  the  air  of 
thy  freedom,  the  fire  of  thine  enthusiasm,  the 
land  of  thy  possession.  He  must  beset  thee 
"  behind  " — in  memory,  ''  before  " — in  pros- 
pect, ''  beside  "—in  the  pressure  of  the  hand. 
He  must  be  thy  vanguard  and  thy  rearguard, 
thy  right  and  thy  left,  thy  working  and  thy 
waiting,  thy  running  and  thy  rest.  Is  it  not 
written  that,  when  He  breathed  on  man,  man 
became  a  living  soul.  Thou  shalt  only  find  thine 
environment  when  thou  hast  caught  the  breath 
of  God! 


ii6  TIMES  OF 


"  DIVINE  HEREDITY  " 

"  Visiting  the  iniquity  of  the  fathers  upon  the  chil- 
dren unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that 
hate  me,  and  showing  mercy  unto  thousands  of  them 
that  love  me." — Exodus  xx.  5,  6. 

THE  idea  is  that  where  there  is  personal 
virtue  evil  need  not  be  transmitted. 
"  Showing  mercy  unto  thousands  of 
them  that  love  me  "  means  "  showing  mercy  to 
thousands  of  those  who  would  naturally  be  the 
victims  of  heredity."  It  is  no  use  for  a  man  to 
say,  "  I  am  bound  to  be  a  drunkard;  my  father 
was  a  drunkard."  Every  man  is  heir  to  two 
streams — a  heredity  of  sin  and  a  heredity  of 
grace.  But  the  stream  of  grace  is  the  older. 
You  may  prove  to  me  that  my  father  had  a 
weak  will,  that  my  grandfather  had  a  weak  will, 
that  my  great-grandfather  had  a  weak  will. 
But  I  have  an  ancestry  farther  back  than  that — 
an  ancestry  which  connects  me  with  uncon- 


RETIREMENT  117 

querable  power ;  I  have  come  from  a  Father  in 
heaven.  The  stream  which  came  to  me  through 
impure  soil  was  once  a  mountain  torrent — 
stainless,  impetuous,  free,  limpid  in  its  purity 
and  sparkling  in  the  sun.  Does  this  count  for 
nothing!  Is  the  corruption  of  the  stream 
alone  to  be  propagated !  Is  there  to  be  no  tend- 
ency to  return  to  an  earlier  heredity — to  the  day 
when  my  ancestral  life  leapt  among  the  hills 
of  God!  There  was  no  inebriety  then,  no 
avarice  then,  no  licentiousness  then ;  the  stream 
was  pure  from  the  fountain.  Does  this  count 
for  nothing!  Is  every  intermediate  hour  to 
have  its  effect,  and  the  first  hour  to  have  none ! 
Are  all  later  impurities  to  be  powerful,  and  the 
original  purity  to  be  powerless !  Is  the  shell  to 
catch  only  the  dust  of  the  ground,  and  retain  no 
murmur  of  the  parent  sea ! 

My  brother,  why  sayest  thou  that  the  hope  in 
Christ  is  not  the  creed  of  science  I  Why  sayest 
thou  that  it  is  refuted  by  the  law  of  heredity! 
Its  greatest  lever  is  that  law.  It  is  because  I  be- 
lieve in  heredity  that  I  believe  in  Jesus.  It  is 
because  I  see  Him  with  qualities  not  derived 
from  the  common  soil  that  I  know  there  must  be 


ii8  TIMES  OF 

a  higher  Father.  And  that,  my  brother,  is  my 
hope  for  thee.  Thou  art  bemoaning  thine  an- 
cestral corruption;  thou  art  lamenting  the 
taint  in  thy  blood.  God  offers  thee  a  trans- 
fusion of  new  blood — the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 
Hast  thou  not  read  "  There  is  a  river  whose 
streams  make  glad  the  city  of  God  " !  The 
streams  of  the  river  are  the  heredity  of  the  river. 
Wouldst  thou  have  the  river  of  thy  life  made 
glad ;  look  up  to  the  streams.  Why  is  thine  eye 
fixed  only  on  its  lower  reaches  where  the  mud 
and  mire  began  to  gather !  The  streams  were 
limpid,  the  streams  were  pure,  the  streams  were 
fresh  from  God.  Return  to  thy  source ;  rise  to 
thy  beginnings;  mount  to  the  uplands  where 
the  fountain  fell !  Yield  to  no  passion  of  the 
hour  even  though  it  came  from  thy  fathers; 
thou  hast  another  Father,  a  higher  Father,  an 
earlier  Father.  Thy  heart  and  thy  flesh  may 
have  fainted  and  failed  through  ten  genera- 
tions; but  the  strength  of  thy  heart  lies  behind 
all  generations,  and  v^ill  conquer  in  the  end. 
The  river  may  have  come  from  thy  fathers;  but 
the  fountain  of  thy  life  was  with  God. 


RETIREMENT 


"  THE  PLACE  OF  HUMAN  EFFORT  IN 
RELIGION  " 

"And  the  Lord  said  unto  Moses,  zvherefore  criest 
thou  unto  me?  Speak  unto  the  children  of  Israel,  that 
they  go  forward." — Exodus  xiv.  15. 

THERE  is  a  time  when  the  best  service  of 
God  is  not  prayer  but  action.  God 
says  to  Moses,  "  Why  spend  your  time 
in  crying  for  Divine  help  when  there  are  hu- 
man hands  fit  for  the  work ;  instead  of  speaking 
to  Me,  speak  to  the  children  of  Israel,  that  they 
go  forward."  Moses  had  always  been  lethargic 
about  action;  his  natural  meekness  may  have 
been  want  of  energy.  He  seems  to  have  ex- 
pected a  purely  Divine  interference — a  bolt 
from  the  blue,  or  an  earthquake,  or  a  legion  of 
angels ;  his  vision  of  the  burning  bush  doubtless 
to  him  suggested  something  drastic.  He  per- 
haps even  thought  it  wrong  to  use  physical 
means.     Ought  not  God  to  have  all  the  glory ! 


I20  TIMES  OF 

If  God  willed  that  the  children  should  recover, 
there  was  no  use  for  a  doctor.  If  God  was  their 
natural  preserver  there  was  no  need  for  vaccin- 
ation. There  was  a  short  road  to  the  land  of 
Canaan — the  Divine  road ;  why  take  the  human 
way!  God  answered,  Because  it  is  the  long 
way ;  because  it  requires  more  time  and  trouble, 
and  therefore  more  faith  and  love.  And  so 
God  answers  still  to  every  soul  that  asks  why 
He  has  made  life  so  difficult.  He  says,  "  It  is 
better  to  gain  than  to  get;  it  is  better  to  win 
than  to  wear ;  it  is  better  to  conquer  your  pos- 
session than  to  carry  it,  unresisting,  home." 

I  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  that  Thou  hast  led  me 
towards  the  land  of  Canaan  by  the  long  way. 
With  Thy  full  presence  I  could  have  reached  it 
in  an  hour ;  but  then,  I  might  have  lost  it  in  an 
hour.  I  should  not  have  been  fitted  for  it, 
trained  for  it,  educated  for  it.  I  thank  Thee 
that  on  my  pilgrimage  Thy  face  has  been  veiled 
to  me.  If  Thy  power  had  been  perfectly  active 
I  should  have  had  nothing  to  do.  I  might  have 
closed  the  hospitals,  the  infirmaries,  the  houses 
of  refuge.  And  the  closing  of  my  care  would 
have  been  the  closing  of  my  love.    The  invalids 


RETIREMENT  121 

would  have  been  cured  at  my  expense — at  the 
expense  of  all  that  is  good  in  me.  I  should 
have  had  no  room  for  pity,  no  place  for  solici- 
tude, no  corner  for  care,  no  margin  for  human 
sacrifice.  I  should  have  had  neither  Martha's 
portion  nor  Mary's — neither  the  working  nor 
the  waiting.  But,  O  my  Father,  I  bless  Thee 
that  Thou  hast  left  me  room  for  both — room  to 
work  and  room  to  wait — human  power  and 
human  patience.  I  bless  Thee  that  there  is 
silence  enough  in  heaven  for  my  voice  to  be 
heard  on  earth.  I  bless  Thee  that  the  veil  of 
Thy  temple  has  not  been  wholly  rent  in  twain. 
If  it  were.  Thy  light  would  dispense  with  my 
faith,  Thy  force  would  supersede  my  acting, 
Thy  will  would  prevent  my  effort,  Thy  sacrifice 
would  make  useless  my  love.  I  will  praise 
Thee  for  the  rim  of  darkness  round  Thy  sun — 
that  Thou  hast  sent  Israel's  children  by  the 
lengthened  way ! 


122  TIMES  OF 


"THE     REVELATION     OF     HEAVEN 
THAT  COMES  FROM  EARTH  " 

"  If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets,  neither 
will  they  he  persuaded,  though  one  rose  from  the  dead." 

Luke  xvi.  31. 

JESUS  does  not  mean  that  a  man  would 
not  be  persuaded  of  a  future  life  if  a  de- 
parted soul  were  to  reappear.  That 
would  not  be  true;  and  Jesus  never  says  what 
is  not  true.  It  would  be  a  direct  refu- 
tation of  His  teaching;  is  not  the  power  of 
His  own  resurrection  just  the  fact  that  it  is  a 
message  from  the  dead!  But  you  will  get  a 
flood  of  light  on  the  passage  if  you  ask,  What 
did  the  rich  man  in  this  parable  need  to  be  per- 
suaded of?  What  was  he  in  doubt  about  dur- 
ing life?  The  existence  of  God?  The  exist- 
ence of  a  heaven?  The  existence  of  a  hell? 
There  is  no  evidence  of  any  such  scepticism. 
What  he  did  doubt  was  the  eternity  of  love. 


RETIREMENT  123 

He  allowed  a  miserable  beggar  to  lie  at  his 
gates  iincared  for,  and  to  be  fed  by  the  acci- 
dental crumbs  which  fell  from  his  table;  the 
dogs  showed  more  humanity.  When  he  got 
into  the  future  life  he  found  that  he  was 
unfit  for  it.  It  was  a  life  of  ministration ;  and 
he  had  never  learned  to  minister.  He  said,  ''  I 
am  tormented  in  this  place;  "  he  felt  deserted, 
unbefriended,  alone.  He  thought  if  a  dead  man 
were  to  appear  to  his  five  brothers  on  earth  it 
would  help  them  to  be  charitable.  Jesus  says  it 
would  not.  He  says  the  spirit  of  love  cannot 
be  created  from  the  outside.  No  opened 
heavens  will  give  it;  no  sights  of  beauty  will 
give  it ;  no  scenes  of  horror  will  give  it ;  it  must 
exist  within. 

My  soul,  why  complainest  thou  of  the  silence 
beyond  the  grave!  It  is  not  from  beyond  the 
grave  that  thy  revelation  of  heaven  must  come. 
If  the  essence  of  heaven  were  beyond  the  grave 
there  would  be  openings  in  the  cloud  every  day 
to  let  thee  see  through.  But  the  essence  of 
heaven  is  below,  within.  Wouldst  thou  find 
the  river  of  its  life;  cry  not  for  the  wings  of  a 
dove  to  bear  thee  upward.    Not  in  the  scenes  of 


,24  TIMES  OF 

mystery  shalt  thou  find  that  river.  Thou  shalt 
only  reach  it  in  the  commonplace  street  where 
Moses  and  the  prophets  dwell.  While  thine 
eye  is  on  the  stars  thou  art  missing  thy  revela- 
tion. Lazarus  is  lying  at  thy  gate — broken, 
afflicted,  desolate.  Israel's  children  are  lying  at 
thy  gate — outcasts  from  the  Egypt  of  civiliza- 
tion, foundlings  picked  up  from  the  gutters  of 
the  Nile.  Moses  calls  thee  to  save  them;  the 
prophets  call  thee  to  save  them;  the  burning 
bush  calls  thee  to  save  them.  Wilt  thou  hear 
Moses  and  the  prophets  and  the  burning  bush  ? 
Then  hast  thou  reached  the  very  essence  of 
heaven — love.  Wouldst  thou  tell  thy  five 
brothers  that  they  are  immortal  ?  Thou  needst 
not  send  a  message  from  the  tomb.  Show  them 
the  power  of  love.  Show  them  the  power  that 
here  and  now  can  make  a  man  live  outside 
his  own  environment.  Show  them  the  life  that 
can  find  itself  by  loss,  raise  itself  by  burial, 
clothe  itself  by  divestiture,  enrich  itself  by 
poverty,  glorify  itself  by  lying  in  the  dust. 
Then  shalt  thou  ask  no  more  a  voice  from  the 
grave. 


RETIREMENT  125 


"  INSTINCT  AND  REASON  " 

"Faith  is  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen." 

Hebrews  y\.  i. 


SWALLOWS  which  have  never  seen  a  for- 
eign summer  migrate  toward  that  sum- 
mer. How  do  they  know  of  its  existr 
ence?  They  have  no  personal  memory;  their 
parents  have  no  words  by  which  to  tell  them; 
how  do  they  know  to  travel  toward  sunny  skies 
of  which  they  have  had  no  experience?  In 
other  words,  what  is  their  evidence  of  things 
unseen?  Would  you  be  shocked  if  I  said  it 
was  faith.  Indeed  I  can  give  no  better  an- 
swer. These  swallows  are  moved  by  an  im- 
pulse which  they  cannot  explain,  which  I  can- 
not explain.  Perhaps  a  magnetic  influence  at- 
tracts them  in  one  direction.  Perhaps  the 
image  of  a  summer  sky  is  imprinted  on  the 
retina.  Perhaps  they  move  by  a  simple  feeling 
of  unrest.     In  any  of  these  cases  it  is  what  in 


126  TIMES  OF 

the  spiritual  world  I  call  faith.  It  is  an  impulse 
beyond  present  experiences  leading  the  bird  to 
anticipate  a  coming  experience.  In  the  case  of 
the  swallow  the  truth  of  the  impulse  is  proved ; 
it  lives  to  reach  the  summer  to  which  it  flies. 
But  suppose  it  always  died  before  reaching  the 
goal,  it  would  then  be  like  you  and  me.  We 
also  have  an  impulse  to  fly  beyond  our  environ- 
ment. IV e  are  born  in  the  winter,  and  in  the 
winter  we  die.  Yet  we  are  ever  seeking  a  sum- 
mer we  have  never  seen — a  summer  which  is 
not  here.  Generation  after  generation  pursues 
its  flight  to  the  unknown  land  of  light  and 
warmth.  Each  drops  weary  by  the  way;  but 
its  successor  resumes  the  wing.  It  is  faith's 
wing.  No  swallows  have  come  back  to  tell  us 
of  the  summer  sky;  but  still  we  fly  persistently 
— through  cold,  through  dark,  through  storm, 
through  rough  blasts  of  obloquy,  through  chills 
of  contempt,  through  hours  of  weakness  and 
weariness.  Is  it  not  a  most  unreasonable 
flight? 

Yes,  my  brother,  there  is  no  reason  in  it; 
it  is  higher  than  reason — it  is  instinct.  In  all 
prophetic   things,    trust   thy   faith   before  thy 


RETIREMENT  127 

reason.  Reason  is  against  the  migration  of  the 
swallows;  reason  is  against  the  labours  of  the 
bee;  it  would  be  easy  to  demonstrate,  from 
reason,  that  both  were  in  a  delusion.  Yet  the 
swallow  has  proved  right;  the  bee  has  proved 
right — right  by  instinct.  Thou,  too,  hast  an  in- 
stinct, my  brother;  it  is  called  faith.  Reason 
has  taken  many  of  thine  instincts  away.  But 
she  has  left  thee  this  one — the  prophetic  power 
of  the  swallow,  the  prophetic  power  of  the  bee. 
To  thee,  as  to  the  swallow,  God  has  given  an 
impulse  of  unrest — a  necessity  to  migrate  to- 
wards skies  thou  hast  not  seen.  To  thee,  as  to 
the  bee,  God  has  given  the  impulse  to  seek  a  tab- 
ernacle of  which  thou  hast  no  experience — the 
dwelling-place  of  the  Most  High.  I  hear  men 
speak  of  songs  of  the  season.  Thou  hast  a  song 
before  the  season — a  song  w^hich  is  in  vogue 
among  the  angels.  There  bloom  in  thy  heart 
flowers  that  are  not  yet  in  thy  ground.  The 
bird  of  the  air  sees  the  storm  before  it  comes 
and  flies  from  it;  thou  seest  the  calm  before 
it  comes,  and  fliest  to  it.  Faith  is  thine  evidence 
of  things  not  seen. 


128  TIMES  OF 


"  LAZARUS  BOUND " 

"And  he  that  zi'as  dead  came  forth,  hound  hand  and 
foot  zvith  graveclothcs ;  and  his  face  was  bound  about 
with  a  napkin.  Jesus  saith  unto  them,  Loose  him,  and 
let  him  go." — John  xi.  44. 

A  MAN'S  resurrection  does  not  accomplish 
everything.  Lazarus  had  received  the 
new  Hfe,  but  he  retained  the  rehcs  of 
the  old  corruption ;  he  rose  from  the  dead  bound 
with  the  graveclothcs.  The  command,  "  Laza- 
rus, come  forth !  "  had  to  be  followed  by  another 
mandate,  *'  Loose  him,  and  let  him  go !  "  It  is 
ever  so.  When  we  are  lifted  into  the  life  of 
Christ  we  present  at  first  a  most  incongruous 
spectacle.  We  are  like  Nebuchadnezzar's  image 
— one  part  gold,  the  other  clay.  We  profess 
to  be  risen  from  the  dead,  and  yet  we  show 
traces  of  the  sepulchre.  Old  habits  linger;  old 
weaknesses  remain.  So  far  as  clothing  is  con- 
cerned, there  is  at  first  no  difference  between 


RETIREMENT  129 

the  risen  Lazarus  and  the  dead  Lazarus;  the 
difference  is  all  within.  But  that  is  an  enor- 
mous difference.  You  and  I  may  meet  on  one 
landing  of  a  stair.  Outwardly  we  are  on  the 
same  level — one  height  above  the  ground.  But 
our  intentions  are  opposite ;  I  am  coming  down 
the  stair;  you  are  going  up.  Mine  is  a  move- 
ment toward  the  earth ;  yours  is  a  resurrection 
movement.  So  was  it  with  Lazarus.  He  was 
on  a  level  with  the  past  in  point  of  apparel. 
Measuring  by  the  eye  you  might  have  said, 
"Judas  seems  as  good  as  he."  But  Judas  was 
putting  on  his  graveclothes ;  Lazarus  was  about 
to  take  his  off;  the  one  was  coming  down,  the 
other  was  going  up,  the  stair. 

'  My  brother,  do  not  measure  thyself  by  thy 
garments!  Thy  garments  may  be  of  earth 
long  after  thy  life  has  come  from  heaven.  Be 
not  dismayed  that  when  thou  hast  crossed  the 
Red  Sea,  when  thou  hast  heard  the  sound  of  the 
timbrel,  when  thou  hast  listened  to  the  triumph 
of  Miriam's  song,  thou  hast  not  left  Egypt  all 
behind !  Be  not  dismayed  that  beyond  the  sea 
there  lies,  not  the  immediate  Canaan,  but  the 
dry,  parched  land  of  the  desert!    Be  not  dis- 


I30  TIMES  OF 

mayed  that  on  thy  walk  to  the  New  Jerusalem 
thou  art  met  by  the  unhealed  lepers  of  thy 
heart!  Though  old  tempers  rise,  though  old 
jealousies  crop  up,  though  old  pride  reappear, 
though  moments  of  old  doubt  return,  say  not 
that  thy  faith  is  vain !  Knowest  thou  not  that 
the  enemy  lingers  in  the  suburbs  after  the  city 
is  taken!  Is  it  not  written,  "  Awake,  thou  that 
sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ 
shall  give  thee  light !  "  Thy  light  is  the  last 
thing  to  be  given;  it  is  to  follow  thy  waking, 
to  follow  thy  rising.  When  thou  risest  from  the 
grave,  hand  and  foot  and  eye  are  still  bound; 
thou  canst  not  run,  thou  canst  not  work, 
thou  canst  not  see.  God's  first  gift  to  thee  is 
the  power  to  feel,  yea,  to  feel  pain ;  thy  new  like 
thine  old  birth  is  but  a  child's  cry.  But  the  cry 
is  the  cry  of  enlargement ;  the  pain  is  the  pain 
of  convalescence.  Yesterday,  the  graveclothes 
were  n(^  barrier  to  thee ;  to-day,  they  are ;  there- 
fore, to-morrow  thou  shalt  hear  the  mandate, 
**  Loose  him,  and  let  him.  go!  " 


RETIREMENT 


131 


"  SELF-SURRENDER  " 

"As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself,  except  it 
abide  in  the  vine ;  no  more  can  ye,  except  ye  abide  in 
me." — John  xv.  4. 

NO  individual  becomes  great  by  his  own 
individuality;  he  only  reaches  great- 
ness through  the  life  of  another.  Why 
is  the  patriot  distinguished  ?  Because  he  abides 
in  a  larger  life — the  life  of  his  country.  Why 
is  the  philanthropist  distinguished?  Because 
he  is  a  member  of  a  larger  body — the  body  of 
humanity.  Why  is  the  poet  distinguished? 
Because  he  is  part  of  a  larger  spirit — the  spirit 
of  nature.  The  truth  is,  every  one  of  us  only 
begins  to  live  by  the  act  of  dying.  The  branch 
bears  fruit  because  it  loses  itself  in  the  tree.  An 
individual  man  is  glorious  in  proportion  as  he 
feels  himself  to  be  another.  If  a  branch  were 
conscious  it  would  not  say  "  I  am  a  branch," 
but  "  I  am  a  tree."     If  a  subject  of  the  Czar 


132  TIMES  OF 

said  to  a  subject  of  King  Edward,  ''  Russia 
would  beat  England  in  war,"  the  latter  would 
feel  sore.  Why?  Because  he  has  identified 
his  own  life  with  the  life  of  England ;  her  tri- 
umph is  his  triumph,  her  defeat  is  his  defeat; 
the  branch  claims  to  be  the  tree.  So  is  it  with 
the  Christian.  He  makes  Christ  a  personal 
matter — rejoices  when  He  is  honoured,  weeps 
when  He  is  defamed.  I  saw  a  German  pro- 
fessor crying  like  a  child  over  prevailing  in- 
fidelity. The  world  would  have  wondered;  it 
would  have  said  ''  Nobody  is  hurting  him! " 
He  would  not  have  admitted  that;  the  branch 
felt  itself  to  be  the  tree. 

My  soul,  hast  thou  realised  the  secret  of  thy 
greatness?  It  is  not  thine  independence;  it  is 
thy  surrender  to  another — to  Christ — to  uni- 
versal Man.  It  is  not  even  self-denial  that  will 
make  thee  great ;  what  thou  needest  is  not  more 
privation  but  larger  enjoyment.  I  hear  thee 
speak  of  the  forgetfulness  of  self.  Yes,  my 
soul;  but  the  solemn  question  is,  the  manner  of 
thy  forgetting.  How  wouldst  thou  forget;  shall 
it  be  by  death  or  shall  it  be  by  life?  Thou 
canst  forget  thyself  by  chloroform;  but  that  is 


RETIREMENT  133 

not  greatness;  it  is  the  unconsciousness  pur- 
chased by  dying.     But  I  know  of  an  uncon- 
sciousness which  is  purchased  by  Uving — living 
in  the  life  of  another;  it  is  the  thing  called 
love.     The  branch  could  forget  itself  by  being 
withered ;  it  prefers  to  forget  itself  by  being  in 
the  vine.     Get  into  the  vine,  my  soul!     Get 
into  the  life  of  another — the  other!     Feel  thy- 
self a  member  of  His  body!    Identify  thy  in- 
terests with  the  interests  of  Him!     Let  there 
beat  one  pulse  between  thee  and  thy  Lord !  Let 
His  grief  be  thy  grief;  let  His  joy  be  thy  joy! 
Let  thy  prayer  be  the  Lord's  Prayer,  His  six 
golden  wishes  thy  six  golden  desires  in  life! 
Let  Him  and  thee  join  in  prayer  together — for 
the  hallowed  Name,  for  the  coming  Kingdom, 
for  the  accepted  Will,  for  the  nourishment  of 
life,  for  the  reign  of  mercy,  for  the  end  of  sin ! 
Thou  shalt  reach  the  sleep  of  God's  beloved 
when   thy   forgetfulness   of   self   shall   be  the 
remembrance  of  Jesus. 


134  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  PAIN  THAT  IS  DIVINE  " 

"Every  branch  that  beareth  fruit,  He  purgeth  it,  that 
it  may  bring  forth  more  fruit." — John  xv.  2. 

MAN  commonly  inflicts  suffering 
upon  unpromising  objects;  the 
greatest  criminal  gets  the  heaviest 
sentence.  But  the  penalties  which  God  inflicts 
are  upon  the  lives  of  promise,  and  because  their 
promise  gives  hope  of  amendment.  Two  boys 
are  brought  before  you,  both  convicted  of  lying. 
The  one  has  been  false  all  his  life;  the  other  has 
never  lied  before.  You  will  probably  decide  to 
punish  the  first  more  severely.  God's  decision 
is  the  opposite.  Instead  of  two  boys,  the  pass- 
age takes  its  illustration  from  two  branches. 
The  one  bears  nothing;  the  other  bears 
less  than  it  ought  to  do.  You  would  think  the 
former  would  be  treated  more  drastically.  No, 
it  is  the  latter.  The  former  is  simply  removed 
from  contact;  the  latter  is  subjected  to  severe 


RETIREMENT  135 

discipline.  Why?  Because  the  penalties  of 
God  are  proportionate  not  to  the  sin  but  to 
the  promise.  And,  in  pursuance  of  this  law,  our 
moral  pain  is  proportionate  not  to  the  sin  but 
to  the  pronaise.  Paul  suffers  more  inward  pain 
than  Nero — because  he  has  more  goodness  in 
him.  I  never  read  of  Nero  beating  on  his 
breast  and  crying,  *'  O  wretched  man  that  I  am ! 
who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  body  of  death !  " 
He  had  not  love  enough;  he  had  not  faith 
enough;  he  had  not  light  enough.  The  pain  of 
Paul  came  from  the  life  higher  than  his  own — 
the  life  of  the  tree. 

No  more,  then,  my  brother,  canst  thou  say 
with  the  men  of  old  time,  ''He  is  afflicted; 
therefore  he  must  be  bad."  Thou  wouldst  be 
nearer  the  truth  by  the  opposite  sentence,  "  He 
is  afflicted;  therefore  he  must  be  good."  In  the 
moral  world  it  is  in  fine  weather  that  the  glass 
falls.  Be  not  discouraged  that  the  glass  falls; 
in  the  sphere  of  the  heart  it  means  not  rain  but 
sunshine.  Be  not  dismayed  although  with  each 
peak  thou  climbest  the  mist  seems  to  deepen. 
Abraham  never  saw  the  mist  till  he  began  to 
ascend  Mount  Moriah.    He  saw  it  not  in  Egypt 


136  TIMES  OF 

— where  his  life  was  really  bad;  only  in  the 
hour  of  his  obedience  did  there  come  to  him  the 
call  to  sacrifice.  Dost  thou  ask  why  Abraham 
was  afflicted  on  the  mount  and  Lot  left  scath- 
less  on  the  plain?  Because  Abraham  was  on 
the  mount  and  Lot  was  on  the  plain.  It  is 
whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth ;  it  is  His 
light  that  makes  thy  shadow.  Tremble  not  at 
the  shadow,  fear  not  when  thou  enterest  into 
the  cloud.  It  is  only  in  thy  transfiguration  mo- 
ments that  God  prepares  a  cloud  for  thee.  It  is 
only  on  the  summit  of  Moriah  that  He  bids  thee 
yield  thine  offering.  It  is  only  on  thy  road  to 
Canaan  that  He  shows  thee  a  path  through  the 
desert.  The  Father  gives  hard  lessons  to  His 
promising  son. 


RETIREMENT  137 


"  THE  BURDEN  IN  HEAVEN  " 

"For  we  that  are  in  this  tabernacle  do  groan,  being 
burdened:  not  for  that  we  would  be  unclothed,  but 
clothed  upon,  that  mortality  might  be  swallowed  up  of 
life."— 2  Cor.  v.  4. 

CC  "V  T^'^  ^°^  ^^^^  ^^  would  be  unclothed." 
r^  I  understand  Paul  to  mean  ''  not 
that  we  would  be  unclothed  of  our 
burdens  in  the  future  world."  And  this  is  a 
very  strange  saying.  Paul  is  comparing  earth 
with  heaven.  He  says,  ''  In  this  tabernacle  we 
groan,  being  burdened."  We  expect  him  to  add, 
"  when  we  get  to  heaven  we  shall  make  up  for 
it  by  a  life  of  ease."  On  the  contrary,  he  says 
the  advantage -of  heaven  will  be  that  we  shall 
be  able  to  hear  our  burdens,  ''  mortality  shall 
be  swallowed  up  of  life."  The  burden  which  is 
a  hindrance  here  will  cease  to  be  a  hindrance 
there.  Why  does  not  Paul  rather  want  to  get 
rid  of  it  altogether — to  be  unclothed  of  it  ?  Be- 


138  .  TIMES  OF 

cause  he  sees  a  use  for  it  yonder.  I  remember 
when  I  was  minister  of  Innellan  attending  the 
last  hours  of  a  little  deformed  girl.  She  had 
been  a  lifelong  invalid.  She  had  borne  years 
of  pain  with  the  most  extraordinary  patience. 
I  asked  her,  in  wonder,  how  she  could  bear  so 
bravely.  I  expected  her  to  answer,  "  I  weep 
now;  I  shall  laugh  yet  " — ''  I  go  on  foot  now; 
I  shall  have  a  carriage  yet  " — "  I  have  poor 
raiment  now;  I  shall  wear  diamonds  yet."  In- 
stead of  that,  she  said,  "  O  sir !  you  know  I  am 
training  to  be  a  ministering  spirit."  That  little 
girl  had  seen  the  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky — 
the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb 

For  indeed,  my  soul,  what  thou  needest  is 
not  an  unclothing  of  thy  burden ;  it  is  that  thy 
burden  should  be  swallowed  up  in  the  life  of 
love.  Why  has  thy  Father  given  thee  a  burden 
here?  To  make  thee  long  for  the  beauty  of 
heaven?  A  burden  is  a  bad  preparation  for 
beauty.  If  Heaven  is  exclusively  a  place  of 
flowers,  thou  shouldst  be  in  the  garden  now. 
Why  art  thou  not  now  in  the  garden?  It  is 
because  thou  art  not  trainini^  for  a  garden. 
Thou  art  training  to  be  a  ministering  spirit. 


RETIREMENT  139 

That  is  why  God  does  not  unclothe  thee  of  thy 
heavy  garments.  The  heavy  garments  are  the 
fashion  up  yonder — only,  they  no  longer 
oppress.  God  would  not  diminish  thy  load ;  He 
would  strengthen  thine  arm.  There  will  be 
more  weights  to  carry  in  heaven  than  on  earth. 
Wouldst  thou  enter  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord? 
The  joy  of  thy  Lord  is  burden-bearing.  He 
began  by  feeling  the  heaviness  of  the  vesture; 
but  love  made  it  a  garment  of  praise ;  and  now 
His  yoke  is  easy  and  His  burden  is  light.  Thou 
shalt  not  need  to  be  divested  of  thy  care  when 
thou  shalt  enter  into  the  joy,  into  the  sympathy, 
of  Jesus. 


I40  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  VALUE  OF  EASTER  DAY  " 

"  An  angel  rolled  away  the  stone,  and  sat  upon  it." 

Matt,  xxviii.  2. 

SURELY  the  angel  of  Easter  morning  did 
a  siiperiliious  piece  of  work!  To  roll 
away  the  stone  of  the  sepulchre  was  a 
very  important  thing;  but  to  sit  upon  it  after- 
ward— surely  that  was  a  useless  task !  Is  it  not 
a  lame  and  impotent  conclusion  to  a  great  deed ! 
We  should  have  expected  the  Easter  angel,  after 
rolling  away  the  stone,  to  have  been  described 
as  winging  his  way  "  beyond  the  clouds  and  be- 
yond the  tomb."  But,  when  we  are  called  to 
see  him  sitting  on  the  old  gravestone,  is  that 
poetry,  is  that  beauty?  Yes — the  grandest 
poetry,  the  most  subtle  beauty.  It  is  a  far  finer 
image  than  would  have  been  depicted  in  the 
angel  flying  home.  It  is  not  enough  that  the 
stone  of  my  grief  should  be  rolled  away ;  it  must 
be  glorified.     Many  a  sorrow,  when  it  passes 


RETIREMENT  Hi 

away,  leaves  soreness  behind.     It  is  no  longer 
the  place  of  my  tribulation  to-day,  but  it  was 
the  place  of  my  tribulation  yesterday.     I  ivecp 
over  my  yesterday;  I  need  something  to  explain 
my  yesterday.     To-day  has  been  glorified;  I 
want  yesterday  to  be  glorified  too.     I  want  to 
see  the  angel  in  the  place  where  my  old  sorrow 
lay— on  the  stone  of  my  former  sepulchre.    The 
glory  of  Easter  morning  is  that  it  brightens 
past  mornings.     It  tells  me  that  what  I  called 
death  was  never  there.    It  throws  a  light  upon 
the  ancient  graves.     It  answers  the  long-re- 
peated  question,    ''To   what   purpose   is   this 
waste?"  It  dispels  my  complaining  over  the 
vanished  years.    It  dries  my  tears  shed  for  the 
shortness  of  human  life.    It  vindicates  the  past 
justice  of  my  Father. 

Lord  of  Easter  Day,  let  me  see  the  angel  on 
the  gravestone !  I  cannot  see  Thy  rising;  I  am 
born  too  late  for  that.  But  on  every  grave- 
stone Thou  hast  left  an  angel  sitting;  the  stone 
has  itself  become  radiant.  I  used  to  cry  for  a 
chariot  of  fire  to  bear  me  beyond  death.  The 
chariot  comes  not,  but  the  angel  at  the  grave 
is  better ;  he  makes  the  cloud  of  death  itself  Thy 


142  TIMES  OF 

chariot.  Reveal  to  me  that  ang^el  at  the  grave ! 
Give  me  a  view  of  death  as  a  hallowed  thing! 
It  has  long  been  to  me  the  king  of  terrors ;  my 
gravestone  has  held  a  spectre.  Take  away  the 
spectre,  and  put  an  angel  there!  If  I  saw  an 
angel  on  the  stone,  I  do  not  think  I  should  need 
to  see  it  rolled  away.  When  I  was  a  child  J 
would  have  abolished  the  thunder;  I  thought  it 
was  the  voice  of  disorder  in  the  world.  I  would 
not  abolish  it  now;  I  know  it  is  the  rhythm  of 
Thine  ozvn  voice.  What  has  made  the  change  ? 
It  is  the  presence  of  the  angel.  The  thunder 
has  not  been  rolled  away,  but  it  has  ceased  to  be 
to  me  a  discord ;  it  has  become  a  chord  of  Th} 
music.  So  is  it  with  death  this  Easter  morn- 
ing! An  angel  sits  upon  the  former  spot  of 
gloom!  Thou  hast  glorified  my  pain  of  yes- 
terday! Thou  hast  exalted  my  valley  of  hu- 
miliation !  Thou  hast  peopled  my  desert  of  si- 
lence! Thou  hast  lighted  my  path  of  despair! 
Thou  hast  put  the  myrtle  where  the  briar  grew, 
the  fir  tree  where  the  thorn  grew !  The  stone  of 
the  sepulchre  is  not  less  heavy;  but  the  weight 
of  affliction  has  become  a  weight  of  glory. 


RETIREMENT  143 


"THE    PEACEARLENESS    AFTER 
PURITY  " 

"First  pure,  then  peaceable."— J  dimes  iii.  i/. 

THERE  is  a  peaceableness  which  comes 
before  purity;  and  it  is  not  beautiful. 
It  is  the  gentleness  of  a  shallow  na- 
ture. There  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world 
between  the  peace  of  an  inland  lake  and  the 
peace  of  the  great  sea.  The  one  is  calm  because 
it  is  sheltered  from  the  storm,  the  other  be- 
cause it  has  lulled  the  breeze  to  rest  upon  its 
bosom.  Even  so  is  it  with  the  passions  of  the 
heart.  There  are  lives  among  us  which  are 
only  inland  lakes.  They  roll  not,  they  toss  not ; 
and  yet  we  do  not  deem  them  beautiful.  We 
feel  that  their  peace  has  cost  them  no  struggle; 
they  are  calm  because  they  cannot  help  it.  I  do 
not  prize  the  forgiveness  of  my  sin  by  souls  like 
these ;  they  have  not  love  enough  to  be  angry. 
But  there  are  other  lives  which  are  like  the 


144  TIMES  OF 

great  sea.  Theirs  is  not  the  peace  of  passion- 
lessness,  but  of  passion — of  that  purity  called 
love.  When  I  do  wrong,  they  forgive  me  for 
Christ's  sake — not  because  they  are  indiifcrcnt 
to  Christ.  They  pardon  me,  not  because  they 
are  ignorant  of  the  f.ood,  but  because  they  see 
the  rainbow.  The  shallow  heart  can  pardon  be- 
cause it  regrets  not  my  yesterday ;  the  pure  heart 
can  pardon  because  it  sees  my  tomorrow. 

Grant  me,  O  Christ,  the  peacemaking  that 
comes  from  purity!  I  would  not  learn  forgive- 
ness by  ceasing  to  feel  my  brother's  sin;  I 
would  learn  it  by  coming  to  know  my  brother's 
possibilities.  I  would  not  that  his  night  should 
become  less  dark  to  me;  but  I  should  like  to 
have  a  clearer  view  of  his  morning.  I  feel  that 
the  pure  in  heart,  just  because  they  see  God, 
have  a  great  advantage  for  pardoning;  they 
have  the  vision  of  all  eternity  with  its  boundless 
possibilities.  Give  me  that  vision,  O  Lord — 
what  the  pure  in  heart  see !  Give  me  a  sight  of 
the  many  hopes  that  bloom  in  the  many  man- 
sions of  my  Father!  Give  me  a  view  of  the 
hidden  springs  of  mercy  that  are  flowing  un- 
derground in  the  paradise  fields!    When  I  am 


RETIREMENT  145 

tempted  to  send  the  flood,  let  me  see  my 
brother's  bow  of  promise!  Let  me  see  the 
flower  as  it  will  bloom  in  Thy  garden ;  let  me 
hear  the  music  as  it  will  sound  on  Thy  harp! 
Let  me  figure  my  offending  brother  in  the  light 
of  kindlier  skies !  Let  me  figure  him  without 
the  graveclothes — without  the  impediments  of 
time !  Let  me  figure  him  in  a  new  environment 
— ^with  the  old  heredity  expelled  and  the  old 
upbringing  supplanted !  Let  me  figure  him  born 
again — of  a  new  life,  of  a  purer  blood.  Let 
me  figure  him  brought  up  in  fresh  surroundings 
—in  the  presence  of  Thy  glory !  Then  shall  my 
forgiveness  be  the  fruit  of  fervour,  not  of  cold- 
ness. I  shall  reach  the  blessing  of  the  merciful 
when  I  have  received  the  vision  of  the  pure  in 
heart. 


146  TIMES  OF 


"THE  UNION   OF   SANCTITY   AND 
LIBERTY  " 

"  By  me  if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  go  in  and  out, 
and  find  pasture." — John  x.  9. 

"  He  shall  go  no  more  out." — Rev.  iii.  12. 

WHICH  of  these  two  statements  is 
correct?  They  are  made  by  the 
same  man;  and  yet  they  seem  con- 
tradictory. The  one  says  that  when  a  man 
comes  to  Christ  he  shall  come  out  again  into  the 
world  whenever  he  likes;  the  other  says  that 
when  he  once  goes  in  he  shall  never  come  out  at 
all.  What  does  John  mean?  Has  he  changed 
his  mind  about  the  relation  of  Christ  to  the 
world?  No,  he  is  in  perfect  harmony  with 
himself.  What  he  means  is  that  when  a  Chris- 
tian comes  out  into  the  world  he  will  cease  any 
longer  to  regard  the  world  as  outside;  he  will 
count  it  a  bit  of  the  temple.  He  will  find  pas- 
ture   in    the    places    where    he    used    to    find 


RETIREMENT  147 

waste.  He  never  found  pasture  in  the  world 
before  he  came  to  Jesus;  he  thought  it  a  scene 
of  mental  starvation.  But  when  he  comes 
to  Jesus  the  world  will  take  a  new  col- 
our; it  will  catch  the  gloiv  of  Jesus.  We 
often  see  a  Christian  coming  out  from  the 
temple  door  and  joining  the  merry  secular 
throng.  We  say,  ''  I  told  you  the  revival  would 
not  last;  that  man  has  cooled  down;  he  has 
gone  back  to  the  world."  No,  he  has  not;  he 
has  extended  his  Christian  premises.  To  the 
eye  of  the  spectator  he  is  coming  out — but  not 
to  his  ozvn  eye.  The  world  is  to  him  a  mansion 
of  the  Father's  house — one  of  the  many  man- 
sions. It  is  a  room  within  the  temple.  It  is  a 
place  of  worship.  It  is  an  altar  of  sacrifice.  It 
is  a  scene  of  prayer.  It  is  a  school  for  humility. 
It  is  a  spot  for  revelation.  It  is  a  possible 
meeting-place  with  God. 

My  soul,  thinkest  thou  that  the  only  cross  of 
Christ  is  that  of  the  desert !  Thinkest  thou  that 
there  is  no  altar  of  sacrifice  in  the  world!  There 
is  such  an  altar — and  it  burns  most  in  the  hour 
of  social  gaiety.  I  hear  thee  speak  of  the  sac- 
rifice involved  in  worldly  griefs;  hast  thou  pon- 


148  TIMES  OF 

dered  the  sacrifice  in  worldly  joys!  Hast  thou 
considered  the  hour  of  festivity!  When  thou 
art  sitting  at  the  festive  board  and  listening  to 
the  ringing  laughter,  hast  thou  meditated  how 
many  of  these  men  are  covering  a  cross !  Why 
do  they  cover  it  ?  To  prevent  the  sight  of  their 
pain  from  spoiling  the  evening's  joy.  All  such 
are  bearing  the  true  cross — Christ's  cross.  They 
are  hiding  the  thorn  in  the  rose.  They  are 
burying  the  sigh  in  the  song.  They  are 
shrouding  the  tear  in  the  smile.  They  are  con- 
cealing the  weight  at  their  heart  by  the  lightness 
of  their  own  movement.  Abraham  has  risen 
up  from  before  his  dead  to  perform  the  cour- 
tesies of  the  householder;  he  has  anointed  his 
face  and  washed  his  hands  that  he  may  not 
break  his  brother's  joy.  He  still  keeps  his 
cross,  but  he  keeps  it  under  a  wreath  of  flowers. 
Truly  the  service  of  this  earthly  table  is  a 
service  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord! 


RETIREMENT  149 


"THE  DECLINE  OF  RECKLESS 
COURAGE." 

"Let    them    be    ashamed    which    transgress    without 
cause." — Psalm  xxv.  3. 

THERE  is  nothing  which  men  are  by 
nature  so  proud  of  as  reckless  courage 
— transgressing  without. cause.  They 
are  not  proud  of  having  transgressed  through 
ignorance.  They  are  not  proud  of  having  trans- 
gressed through  false  conviction.  But  they  are 
apt  to  be  proud  of  a  wrong  deed  whose  simple 
motive  was  personal  fearlessness;  it  seems  to 
make  them  heroes.  The  Psalmist,  on  the  con- 
trary, says  it  is  a  thing  to  be  ashamed  of;  he 
will  admit  nothing  heroic  in  a  deed  of  reckless 
courage.  And,  indeed,  I  think  he  is  right. 
For  there  are  two  kinds  of  courage  in  this 
world — the  courage  of  the  flesh  and  the  courage 
of  the  spirit.  The  one  is  something  which  we 
share  with  the  beast  of  the  field,  and  in  which 


I50  TIMES  OF 

the  beast  of  the  field  excels  us ;  the  other  is  all 
our  own.  I  remember  reading  lately  of  two 
little  girls  discussing  the  depth  of  a  pond.  One 
had  the  courage  of  the  flesh  and  was  eager  to 
display  it;  she  proposed  they  should  both  jump 
in  and  try.  Her  sister  drew  back;  she  was 
timid  in  the  flesh.  The  bolder  of  the  two  leapt 
into  the  water  and  did  not  come  up;  she  had 
been  caught  in  a  bank  of  weeds.  Then  the  one 
timid  in  the  flesh  became  brave  in  the  spirit; 
without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  sprang  into 
the  dreaded  water  and  rescued  her  sister.  Which 
of  these  had  most  animal  courage?  The  one 
who  endangered  her  life  without  cause.  The 
other  never  reached  the  absence  of  fear — not 
even  when  she  saved  her  sister.  Yet  hers  w^as  a 
nobler  courage,  less  in  quantity,  higher  in  kind. 
She  never  lost  the  timidity  of  the  flesh ;  but  she 
was  carried  through  that  timidity  by  a  motive 
of  love. 

O  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  dispel  my  false  ideal  of 
glory!  Dispel  my  thought  that  to  say  ''  I  do 
not  care  "  is  a  manly  thing!  Teach  me  that  the 
glory  of  man  is  not  fearlessness,  but  fear!  The 
higher  I  climb  in  creation,  the  more  does  my 


RETIREMENT  151 

flesh  lose  courage.  The  lion  is  bolder  than  the 
child;  the  child  is  bolder  than  the  youth;  the 
youth  is  bolder  than  the  man.  I  have  more  fear 
as  I  come  nearer  to  Thee.  Men  before  Thy 
coming  did  not  fear  death  as  they  fear  it  now. 
Thou  hast  made  life  so  responsible  that  death 
is  to  me  more  appalling;  I  could  not  bear  it  now 
without  the  vision  of  a  debt  discharged.  It  is 
easy  for  a  man  to  die  who  thinks  himself  a 
worm — who  deems  his  brothers  worms;  such  a 
life  to  such  a  brotherhood  can  have  nothing  to 
pay.  But  I  have  learned  from  Thee  the  magni- 
tude of  life,  the  awfulness  of  life.  I  have 
learned  from  Thee  the  weight  of  an  idle  word, 
the  sweep  of  a  single  sin.  I  have  learned  it, 
and  it  makes  me  laden.  I  have  lost  the  courage 
of  the  beast  of  the  field ;  it  has  dropped  from  me 
like  Elijah's  mantle  as  I  have  ascended.  There 
has  come  to  me  a  great  fear — Thy  fear — the 
fear  of  the  Lord.  I  thank  Thee,  O  Christ,  for 
this  new,  this  solemn  gift. 


152  TIMES  OF 


"  UNREALITY  " 

"  The  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away.'* 

I  Cor.  vii.  31. 

THE  word  translated  "  fashion  "  literally  M 

means  ''  stage  scenery."  Paul  does 
not  mean  that  everything  on  earth  is  W 
perishable,  but  that  every  unreal  thing  is  per- 
ishable. Stage  scenery  is  unreal  scenery.  It 
does  not  represent  the  actual  facts  of  the  green- 
room. Many  an  actor  is  bringing  down  the 
house  with  laughter  when  his  own  heart  is 
breaking.  Paul  saw  that  a  great  deal  of  life 
is  simply  stage  acting — concealment  of  the 
greenroom.  How  many  kind  things  are  spoken, 
not  in  order  to  reveal,  but  in  order  to  cover! 
How  many  gifts  are  sent,  not  for  your  sake, 
but  for  the  sake  of  the  donor!  How  many 
blandishments  are  lavished  for  a  vote!  How 
many  visits  are  paid  for  a  subscription!  Paul 
says  all  this  unreality  will  pass  away.     When 


RETIREMENT  153 

will  it  pass  away?  At  death,  you  say.  No; 
death  does  not  reveal  the  reality  of  life.  Death 
does  not  tear  away  the  mask  from  the  face  of 
my  brother.  Death  is  itself  a  mask,  itself  an 
unreality.  So  far  from  causing  the  stage 
scenery  to  vanish,  it  is  itself  the  climax  of  illu- 
sion. It  is  not  to  death  I  look;  it  is  to  love. 
Love  is  the  great  dispeller  of  unreality.  Love 
is  the  great  emancipator  from  stage  scenery. 
Love  is  the  true  rending  of  the  veil  between  this 
world  and  the  world  to  come. 

My  soul,  I  have  heard  thee  speak  of  life  as 
a  vain  show.  It  is  rather  the  zuant  of  life  that 
is  a  vain  show.  It  is  thy  life's  unreality  that 
makes  it  vanity.  I  have  heard  thee  speak  of 
death  as  the  revealer  of  delusions ;  it  is  itself  the 
biggest  delusion  of  all.  It  is  the  deadening 
effect  of  the  worldly  fashion  that  makes  that 
fashion  unreal  to  thee.  It  paralyses  energy;  it 
curbs  spontaneity.  Not  by  drawing  near  the 
grave  shalt  thou  learn  life's  reality.  Thou  shalt 
learn  it  by  leaving  the  grave  further  behind. 
Why  sayest  thou  that  all  things  are  levelled  in 
the  tomb !  They  are  not ;  there  is  stage  scenery 
even  in  the  funeral  pageant.     Love  is  the  only 


154  TIMES  OF 

leveller ;  fly  to  the  bosom  of  love !  In  vain  shalt 
thou  v^ander  in  the  cemetery ;  in  vain  shalt  thou 
count  the  tombstones;  in  vain  shalt  thou  read 
the  inscriptions  on  the  graves — they  will  teach 
thee  nothing  of  life's  reality.  But  love  will. 
Love  will  rend  the  drapery  and  let  thee  see 
through.  Love  will  tear  the  mask  and  show 
thee  the  man.  Love  will  break  the  illusion  that 
lights  the  stage  of  time.  Love  will  detect  the 
false  ring  of  the  pretending  gold.  Love  will 
see  the  true  gem  in  many  an  ^enpretentious 
casket.  Love  will  discover  the  greenroom 
where  hides  the  real  life  of  the  actor.  Fly  to 
the  bosom  of  love,  O  my  soul ! 


RETIREMENT 


55 


"  THE  MEETING  OF  LIFE'S 
EXTREMES." 

"  Except  yc  become  as  little  children." 

Matt,  xviii.  3. 
''  That  ye  might  be  filled  zvith  all  the  fulness  of  God." 
• — Ephesians  iii,  19. 

TO  become  a  little  child;  to  be  filled  with 
all  the  fulness  of  God — how  shall  we 
reconcile  these  two  aspirations !  They 
need  no  reconciling.  Do  you  want  to  get  back 
the  qualities  of  your  childhood  ?  You  can  only 
do  so  by  going  forward.  There  are  only  two 
things  which  can  give  the  qualities  of  the  child 
— emptiness  and  fulness — the  opening,  and  the 
completed,  day.  Take  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount — the  blessing  which  Jesus  pronounced 
on  certain  qualities.  They  are  all  qualities  of 
the  child — humility,  dissatisfaction,  meekness, 
hunger,  mercy,  purity,  peacemaking;  and  the 
child  has  them  by  reason  of  its  emptiness.    But 


156  TIMES  OF 

the  man  can  get  them  back  by  his  fulness.  The 
child  is  **  poor  in  spirit  "  because  he  has  no 
ideal;  the  man,  because  his  ideal  is  so  high. 
The  child  often  "  mourns  "  because  he  is  too 
small  for  his  environment;  the  man  because  he 
is  too  big  for  his  environment.  The  child  is 
"  meek  "  because  he  is  shallow ;  the  man,  be- 
cause he  is  balancing  the  depths.  The  child 
"  hungers  "  before  he  takes  food;  the  hunger  of 
the  spiritual  man  comes  after  tasting.  The 
child  "  forgives  "  because  he  forgets;  the  man, 
because  he  remembers — remembers  the  frailty 
of  his  brother's  frame.  The  child  is  "  pure  " 
because  he  is  innocent;  the  man,  because  he 
sees  impurity's  stain.  The  child  "  makes 
peace"  because  he  is  ignorant  of  self-interest; 
the  man,  because  he  has  learned  self-sacrifice. 
The  spiritual  man  gets  back  the  virtues  of  the 
child;  but  he  gets  them  back  "  on  the  Mount." 
My  brother,  often  have  I  heard  thee  lament 
the  loss  of  thy  youth.  Ever  art  thou  deploring 
that  the  hours  of  the  morning  pass  so  soon 
away,  that  the  afternoon  and  evening  come  so 
quickly  round.  What  if  the  afternoon  and  eve- 
ning should  be  the  road  back  to  the  morning! 


RETIREMENT  157 

What  if  the  fulness  of  experience  should  restore 
the  very  glory  which  was  to  thee  associated 
with  ignorance  of  the  world !  It  can  restore  it ; 
it  will  restore  it.  Thy  youth  is  coming  back  to 
thee  by  the  very  chariot  in  which  it  departed. 
It  departed  with  opening  experience ;  it  will  re- 
turn with  completed  experience.  The  star  that 
waits  for  thee  is  "  the  bright  and  morning 
star."  Behind  the  afternoon  clouds,  behind  the 
evening  shadows,  behind  the  night  watches,  lies 
thy  prospect  of  a  second  dawn.  Is  it  not  written 
**  when  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come,  God 
sent  His  Son  " — the  Child-Christ !  So  shall 
it  be  in  the  fulness  of  thine  experience.  Thy 
Child-Christ  shall  come.  Life  will  dawn  anew. 
Morn  will  break  once  more.  Thou  shalt  stand 
again  in  the  east  with  the  rising  sun.  Thou 
shalt  hear  again  the  shepherds'  song  over  the 
plains  of  Bethlehem.  And  the  song  shall  l^e  all 
hope — the  hope  that  comes  only  with  the  morn- 
ing, the  optimism  of  first  bells,  the  expectation 
that  is  inseparable  from  the  dawn — "  Glory ! 
peace !  goodwill !  " 


158  TIMES  OF 


"SALVATION    AND    DILAPIDATION" 

"  To  enter  into  life  halt  or  maimed." 

Matt,  xviii.  8. 

THERE  are  two  ways  of  entering  into  the 
life  of  God — the  mounting  up  with  the 
wings  of  an  eagle  and  the  halting  on 
lame  feet.  The  prodigal  son  came  in  by  the 
former  way ;  he  entered  at  once  into  rest ;  he  was 
greeted  instantaneously  with  the  music  and 
dancing  of  the  Father's  house.  The  patriarch 
Jacob  came  in  by  the  other  way;  he  halted  on 
his  thigh  amid  the  glories  of  Peniel ;  the  break- 
ing of  the  day  came  to  him  in  the  shrinking  of 
the  sinew.  I  am  glad  there  is  this  latter  way 
of  entering  into  life.  I  am  glad  one  can  enter 
into  the  life  of  God  when  he  has  not  the  wings 
of  an  eagle — when  he  feels  the  reverse  of  soar- 
ing. I  am  glad  that  depression  is  not  incom- 
patible with  the  new  birth — that  a  man  may  be 
halt,  maimed,  mutilated,  and  yet  at  that  very 


RETIREMENT  159 

time  may  have  already  passed  from  death  unto 
life.  None  but  Christ  ever  offered  such  liberal 
terms  of  salvation.  None  but  Christ  would 
ever  accept  a  bird  with  broken  wing.  The 
men  of  the  past  demanded  the  flight  of  the 
eagle.  They  wrote  upon  the  portals  of  their 
heaven,  ''  The  halt  and  the  maimed  enter  not 
here."  Greece  demanded  the  beautiful;  Rome 
called  for  the  strong;  Judea  summoned  the 
good;  none  said  to  the  labouring  and  heavy- 
laden  "  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you."  None 
but  one — the  Man,  Christ  Jesus.  He  alone  in- 
vited the  lame  feet.  The  Greek  could  only 
come  in  the  car  of  Venus;  the  Jew  could  only 
ascend  in  the  chariot  of  Elijah;  the  Christian 
could  totter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

O  Love  Divine,  all  loves  excelling!  we  thank 
Thee  for  Thy  transcendence.  All  earth-born 
love  is  built  upon  some  glory  of  its  object ;  my 
carnal  heart  waits  for  the  appearing  of  my 
brother's  star.  But  Thoti  waitest  not  for 
the  star;  Thou  hast  songs  in  the  night. 
Thy  heart  is  less  exacting  than  mine ;  it  claims 
less  at  the  starting.  /  demand  at  the  very  least 
the  presence  of  a  bow  in  the  cloud;  Thou  wilt 


i6o  TIMES  OF 

accept  the  cloud  without  the  bow.  /  refuse  to 
be  reconciled  to  my  brother  unless  he  has 
offered  me  his  gift;  but  Thou  bringest  Thy  gift 
to  invite  my  reconciliation.  Thou  comest  to 
me  in  my  impotence,  in  my  poverty,  in  my  mean 
attire.  Thou  comest  to  me  when  it  is  still  mid- 
night. Thou  comest  when  there  is  only  a  man- 
ger with  no  Christ  in  it;  Thou  bringest  Thy 
Christ  to  the  manger.  Thou  comest  when  there 
is  only  the  storm  and  no  Jesus ;  Thou  bringest 
Jesus  to  ivalk  upon  the  storm.  Thou  alone  hast 
seen  the  prodigal  afar  off.  Other  masters  have 
delayed  their  coming  till  he  has  put  on  the  ring 
and  the  robe;  Thou  bringest  the  ring  and  the 
robe  to  the  house  of  his  squalour.  Man's  heart 
can  rise  to  the  hills  of  heaven ;  but  Thine  alone 
can  embrace  the  valleys  of  earth. 


RETIREMENT  i6i 


"  THANKSGIVING  FOR  THE  BLESSED 
DEAD  " 

"  Jesus  said,  Father,  I  thank  Thee  that  Thou  hast  heard 
me." — John  xi.  41. 

WERE  you  ever  struck  by  a  peculiarity 
in  the  passage  above  quoted  ?  Jesus 
thanks  His  Father  for  a  boon 
which  has  not  yet  been  given !  He  blesses  God 
for  a  resurrection  which  has  not  yet  been  ef- 
fected !  '*  I  thank  Thee  that  Thou  hast  heard 
me."  How  could  Jesus  say  that!  Lazarus  was 
still  in  the  grave !  The  trappings  of  death  were 
yet  around  him !  The  silence  of  the  sepulchre  was 
unbroken !  The  prayer  had  gone  up ;  but  there 
had  been  no  audible  response.  Why  should  the 
thanksgiving  have  preceded  the  harvest?  Be- 
cause the  act  of  Jesus  has  a  foundation  in  ex- 
perience. Do  you  and  I  never  say,  in  our  letters 
to  a  friend,  ''  Thanking  you  in  anticipation  "  ! 
When  do  we  use  these  words?    It  is  when  we 


i62  TIMES  OF 

feel  sure  that  the  thing  will  be  agreeable  to  the 
friend's  will.  Jesus,  too,  was  sure  of  this.  He 
was  quite  sure  that  the  thing  He  asked  was 
agreeable  to  the  will  of  the  Father;  therefore 
He  thanked  the  Father  in  anticipation.  He  did 
not  ahuays  feel  this  certainty;  in  Gethsemane 
He  said,  "  Father,  if  it  be  possible/'  But  here 
He  had  no  doubt  at  all.  What  zvas  this  point 
on  which  He  felt  so  sure  of  the  Father's  concur- 
rence? It  was  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  He 
knew  that  His  Father  shrank  from  the  dying  of 
a  man.  He  knew  that  His  Father  was  praying, 
as  He  was  praying,  for  the  soul's  eternal  life. 
He  knew  that  the  heart  of  His  Father  was  ever 
adverse  to  the  claims  of  the  grave.  He  was  so 
sure  of  His  Father's  mind  that  He  thanked 
Him  in  advance. 

I,  too,  will  thank  Thee  for  my  hallowed  dead, 
O  God!  I  will  thank  Thee  in  the  absence  of 
outward  evidence — in  the  midst  of  the  great 
silence !  There  has  as  yet  come  no  resurrection 
mandate  to  my  ear.  I  have  heard  no  voice 
which  said  *'  Lazarus,  come  forth !  "  I  have 
seen  with  the  eye  of  sense  nothing  to  tell  me 
that  the  garments  of  the  grave  are  a  delusion. 


RETIREMENT  163 

Yet  the  attitude  of  my  soul  will  be  one  rather  of 
thanksgiving  than  of  prayer.  Somehow,  I  feel 
as  if  this  were  one  of  the  things  I  did  not  we^^c/ to 
pray  for,  one  of  the  things  which  are  granted 
already,  one  of  the  things  in  which  thanks- 
giving takes  the  place  of  prayer.  When  I  stand 
beside  the  grave  that  professes  to  hold  my  dead, 
I  seem  to  understand  the  words,  ''  In  that  day 
ye  shall  ask  me  nothing."  There  are  some 
things  for  which  it  would  be  superfluous  to 
pray.  Could  I  pray  that  Thou  shouldst  love 
the  Lord  Jesus!  Could  I  pray  that  Thou 
shouldst  keep  Thy  Divine  purity!  Such  re- 
quests I  have  no  need  to  make.  Neither  need  I 
ask  the  immortality  of  human  love.  It  is  a  part 
of  Thyself;  Thou  couldst  not  let  it  die.  There- 
fore, I  will  not  pray  for  my  dead;  I  will  give 
thanks  for  them.  I  will  bring  a  wreath  to  the 
sepulchre — a  wreath  of  immortelles.  I  will 
sing  an  Easter  hymn  in  the  winter  of  the  year. 
I  will  number  the  departed  among  the  mem- 
bers of  my  household ;  I  will  say,  with  the  little 
girl  by  the  gravestone,  "  We  are  seven !  "  I 
will  keep  a  place  for  the  old  chair  in  a  corner  of 
my  heart.     I  will  garner  the  old  songs  in  the 


i64  TIMES  OF 

fields  of  memory.  I  will  preserve  the  birthdays 
on  the  fly-leaf  of  the  old  Bible  as  anniversaries, 
not  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living.  And  when, 
within  Thy  house,  I  bend  my  knee  in  the  mo- 
ment allotted  to  silent  prayer,  I  will  not  say 
"  Father,  raise  up  my  dead !  "  but  "  Father,  I 
bless  Thy  Name,  that  my  dead  are  raised 
already !  " 


^'•^•}»fc 


RETIREMENT  165 


"  PAUL'S  HYMN  TO  LOVE  " 

"Love  endureth  all  things."—!  Cor.  xiii.  7. 

THERE  is  one  thing  which  has  often 
struck  me  in  Paul's  hymn  to  love;  it 
is  a  hymn  in  praise  of  what  love  for- 
bears to  do.  Take  it  verse  by  verse,  clause  by 
clause,  and  you  will  find  this  true.  It  opens  with 
the  strain,  '*  Love  suffers  long;  "  it  closes  with 
the  chord,  ''Love  abideth."  To  "abide"  is 
really  the  same  thing  as  to  "  suffer  long;  "  we 
say,  ''  I  cannot  abide  this  " — cannot  bear  it.  In 
its  beginning,  in  its  ending,  in  its  intermediate 
stages,  the  hymn  rings  the  changes  on  one  note, 
"  Love  endureth."  Should  we  not  have  ex- 
pected less  prosaic  ground?  Should  we  not 
have  looked  for  the  harp  to  tell,  not  what  love 
can  bear,  but  what  love  can  do  ?  Why  not  speak 
of  her  gifts  bestowed,  of  her  treasures  lavished, 
of  her  wealth  diffused?  Why  not  sing  of  the 
ointment   she  has  outpoured,  of  the  feet  she 


i66  TIMES  OF 

has  washed  with  her  tears,  of  the  spices  she 
has  brought  to  the  sepulchre  ?  Why  not  tell  of 
her  journeyings,  of  her  bounties,  of  her  chari- 
ties, of  her  deeds  of  glory  done?  Would  not 
this  have  made  a  grander  hymn  than  the  mere 
recital  of  how  much  she  can  bear  without 
crying? 

Nay,  my  soul,  it  is  not  so ;  Paul  is  right,  and 
thou  art  wrong.  The  glory  of  all  things  lies  in 
their  arduous  path.  The  arduous  path  of  love  is 
its  forbearance.  Art  thou  seeking  a  romantic 
outlet  for  thy  love?  Art  thou  looking  for  a 
chance  to  plunge  into  the  river,  or  to  face  the  de- 
vouring flame?  Art  thou  saying,  either  to  thy 
Christ  or  to  thy  brother,  ''  Bid  me  that  I  come 
to  Thee  on  the  waters  "  ?  I  would  dissuade  thee 
from  such  a  prayer.  It  is  not  the  height  of  the 
aim  that  makes  me  dissuade  thee.  I  do  not 
think  the  aim  high  enough,  the  test  sure  enough. 
It  is  easy  for  thy  love  to  expand  itself  in  an 
ecstatic  spasm.  It  is  easy  for  "  the  passion- 
flower at  the  gate  "  to  let  fall  "  a  splendid  tear  " 
— to  be  sacrificial  in  heroic  circumstances.  But 
the  test  of  thy  love  is  where  the  circumstances 
arc  not  heroic.     The  test  of  thy  love  is  where 


RETIREMENT  167 

there  is  no  splendour  in  the  tear — where  it  falls 
in  secret  and  unseen.  Can  thy  love  bear  life's 
little  frictions  ?  Can  it  bear  the  f rettings  by  the 
world's  prose?  Can  it  bear  to  be  itself  mis- 
understood, misinterpreted?  Can  it  endure  a 
delay  in  the  response ;  can  it  support  those  mo- 
ments of  silence  where  there  is  no  return  ?  Can 
it  take  ashes  in  exchange  for  beauty,  the  spirit 
of  heaviness  in  response  to  the  garment  of 
praise  ?  The  poet  tells  us  of  a  rose  in  a  garden 
where  there  was  no  other  rose  ''  to  reflect  its 
blushes."  That  garden  must  have  been  Geth- 
semane.  If  thy  love  can  bear  that  and  not  die, 
it  is  worthy  of  Paul's  hymn. 


i68  TIMES  OF 


"  SERVICE  BY  THE  SORROWFUL  ** 

"Let  us  run  with  patience." — Hebrews  xii.   i. 

TO  rtm  with  patience  is  a  very  difficult 
thing.  Running  is  apt  to  suggest  the 
absence  of  patience,  the  eagerness  to 
reach  the  goal.  We  commonly  associate  pa- 
tience with  lying  clown.  We  think  of  it  as  the 
angel  that  guards  the  couch  of  the  invalid. 
And,  indeed,  for  those  who  are  invalids  patience 
is  the  angel-virtue,  the  crown  of  spiritual  ripe- 
ness. Yet,  I  do  not  think  the  invalid's  patience 
the  hardest  to  achieve.  There  is  a  patience 
which  I  believe  to  be  harder — the  patience  that 
can  run.  To  lie  down  in  the  time  of  grief,  to  be 
quiet  under  the  stroke  of  adverse  fortune,  im- 
plies a  great  strength.  But  I  know  of  some- 
thing that  implies  a  strength  greater  still;  it 
is  the  power  to  work  under  the  stroke.  To  have 
a  great  weight  at  your  heart  and  still  to  run.  to 
have  a  big  grief  in  your  soul  and  still  to  work, 


RETIREMKNT  169 

to  have  a  deep  anguish  in  your  spirit  and  still 
to  perform  the  daily  task — it  is  a  Christ-like 
thing !  Many  of  us  could  nurse  our  grief  with- 
out crying  if  we  were  allowed  to  nurse  it.  The 
hard  thing  is  that  most  of  us  are  called  to  exer- 
cise our  patience,  not  in  bed,  but  in  the  street. 
We  are  called  to  bury  our  sorrow,  not  in 
lethargic  quiescence,  but  in  active  service — in 
the  exchange,  in  the  counting-house,  in  the 
workshop,  in  the  hour  of  social  intercourse,  in 
the  contribution  to  another's  joy.  There  is  no 
burial  of  sorrow  so  difficult  as  that;  it  is  the 
"  running  with  patience." 

This  was  Thy  patience,  O  Son  of  Man !  It 
w^as  at  once  a  waiting  and  a  running — a  wait- 
ing for  the  goal,  and  a  doing  of  the  lesser  work 
meantime.  How  seldom,  when,  in  that  Gospel 
story,  I  see  Thee  bearing  my  little  crosses,  do 
I  think  that,  all  the  time,  a  big  cross  was  at 
Thine  own  heart !  I  see  Thee  at  Cana  turning 
the  water  into  wine  lest  a  marriage  feast  should 
be  clouded.  I  see  Thee  in  the  desert  feeding  a 
multitude  with  bread  just  to  relieve  a  tempo- 
rary pain.  And,  all  the  time,  Thou  wert  bearing 
a   mighty   grief,   unshared,   unspoken.      Thou 


I70  TIMES  OF 

wert  carrying  my  cross  up  Thy  Dolorous  Way, 
and  easing  my  heart  when  Thine  own  heart  was 
breaking.  Make  me  partaker  of  Thy  marvel- 
lous patience !  Give  me  the  power,  Thy  power, 
to  run  the  race  when  tlie  heart  is  heavy !  I  often 
ask  to  get  light  at  evening  time.  But  I  should 
like  to  give  light  at  evening  time,  O  Lord.  I 
should  like  at  my  evening  time  to  have  so 
much  of  Thy  Divine  patience  that  I  could  run 
the  common  race  of  life  and  make  no  sign.  I 
should  like  to  have  a  smile  for  the  weary  though 
my  own  soul  be  sad,  to  have  a  cheer  for  the 
downcast  though  my  own  spirit  be  drooping. 
Men  ask  for  a  rainbow  in  the  cloud ;  but  I  would 
ask  more  from  Thee.  I  would  be,  in  my  cloud, 
myself  a  rainbow — a  minister  to  others'  joy. 
My  patience  will  be  perfect  when  it  can  work 
in  the  vineyard. 


RETIREMENT  171 


"  THE  JOYOUSNESS  OF  PIETY  " 

"  As  long  as  she  lay  desolate  she  kept  Sabbath." 

2  Chron.  xxxvi.  21. 

IS  religion,  then,  so  unfavourable  to  cheer- 
fulness? Are  the  Sabbaths  of  the  Lord 
such  miserable  days  that  we  can  only  keep 
them  when  we  are  desolate?  The  idea  is  ex- 
actly the  reverse;  it  is  that  we  come  to  value 
God's  happy  Sabbaths  when  we  ourselves  are 
miserable.  The  desolateness  comes  not  from 
God,  but  from  the  world.  The  desolateness  is 
not  the  preparation  for  the  Sabbath;  it  is  the 
contrast  to  the  Sabbath.  Men  flee  to  the  Sab- 
bath to  avoid  the  desolation.  We  sometimes 
say,  "  As  long  as  the  rain  fell  they  kept  under 
shelter."  The  rain  is  not  the  preparation  for 
the  shelter;  it  is  the  contrast  to  it;  the  shelter 
supplies  a  want  which  the  rain  creates.  The 
w^orship  of  God  does  not  propose  to  make  me 
miserable;  it  proposes  to  cure  my  misery.    Men 


172  TIMES  OF 

have  spoken  of  religion  as  a  state  of  asceticism, 

of  individual  loneliness.  It  is  entirely  the  oppo- 
site; the  2uorld  is  a  state  of  individual  loneli- 
ness; we  fly  to  God  that  our  solitude  may  be 
broken.  The  burden  of  this  world  is  its  isola- 
tion of  human  souls;  men  are  not  properly 
united.  There  is  a  desolateness  in  purely 
secular  life.  We  are  not  social  enough,  not 
comrades  enough.  There  is  as  big  a  gulf  be- 
tween each  of  us  as  between  Dives  and  Laz- 
arus. There  are  times  when  we  realise  this, 
and  then  we  cry  aloud — cry  aloud  for  the  com- 
munion of  Christ,  for  the  voices  of  the  great 
multitude,  for  the  noise  of  many  waters,  for 
the  breaking  of  solitude  by  the  general  assem- 
bly of  the  first-born.  And  the  prayer  we 
breathe  is  the  prayer  for  a  larger  world. 

Lord,  take  us  out  of  the  desert — out  of  the 
desolate  places!  We  are  too  much  alone  here. 
It  is  not  the  happiness  of  earth  that  makes  it 
unfit  for  us;  it  is  its  zf;ihappiness.  This  world 
is  not  our  rest — not  our  Sabbath.  It  fails  to 
be  our  rest  because  it  is  not  sufficiently  a  world. 
It  is  too  lonely,  too  devoid  of  human  cheer.  We 
want  more  gaiety,  more  company,  more  inter- 


RETIREMENT 


173 


change  of  thought,  more  genuine  social  joy. 
That  is  why  we  come  to  Thy  world,  O  Christ. 
It  is  because  in  Thy  Father's  house  we  hear 
the  sound  of  music  and  the  tread  of  dancing. 
It  is  because  in  Thy  hall  of  banqueting  we  see 
a  table  spread  for  guests  innumerable.  It  is 
because,  from  within  Thy  courts,  we  catch  the 
strains  of  melody — the  songs  of  voices  re- 
deemed from  selfishness.  It  is  because  in  the 
streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem  ''  the  boys  and 
girls  play."  It  is  because  the  very  hired  serv- 
ants of  Thy  Father  have  bread  and  to  spare. 
Train  us  for  Thy  joy!  Prepare  us  for  Thy 
feast!  Ripen  us  for  Thy  year  of  jubilee!  Let 
us  feel  our  want  on  earth  that  we  may  protest ; 
let  us  learn  our  famine  that  we  may  clamour; 
let  us  experience  our  chain  that  we  may  struggle 
to  be  free!  It  will  be  worth  while  to  be  led 
into  the  desert  of  Sinai  if  in  the  stillness  of  its 
lonely  hours  we  shall  hear  the  Sabbath  bells  of 
Canaan. 


174  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  SUMMER  OF  THE  SOUL  " 

"  Thou  slialt  visit  thy  habitation,  and  shalt  not  sin." 

Job  V.  24. 

THE  climax  of  moral  goodness  is  good- 
ness in  the  domestic  circle.  When  the 
beauty  of  a  man's  character  reaches 
to  his  own  dwelling,  it  must  be  beautiful  in- 
deed ;  the  acme  of  virtue  is  to  visit  one's  habita- 
tion and  not  sin.  The  common  view  is  the 
opposite.  We  think  of  the  home  circle  as  the 
he  ginning  of  goodness.  We  think  of  the  inter- 
course between  brother  and  sister  as  an  in- 
cipient stage,  a  preparatory  stage.  We  look 
upon  the  domestic  altar  as  the  place  of  trivial 
sacrifice,  the  school  for  beginners  in  the  Chris- 
tian race!  But  here  is  a  startling  revela- 
tion! Here  is  a  voice  from  the  ancient  past 
which  speaks  a  paradox!  It  tells  us  that  the 
home  is  not  the  beginning,  but  the  climax,  of 
perfectness.     It  tells  us  that  moral  loveliness  is 


RETIREMENT  175 

never  so  lovely  in  a  man  as  when  it  shines  in 
his  dwelling-place.  It  tells  us  that  the  flower 
of  human  life  only  reaches  its  full  bloom  when 
its  fragrance  fills  the  garden  where  it  was  first 
planted. 

Teach  me,  O  Lord,  the  way  of  Thy  statutes 
— the  order  of  Thy  statutes !  I  am  in  a  great 
mistake  about  that  order;  I  put  Thy  richest 
treasures  on  the  lowest  step.  I  have  been  ac- 
customed to  say,  ''  Be  faithful  in  little  things, 
and  you  will  learn  to  be  faithful  in  much."  But 
Thy  order  inverts  the  sequence ;  it  says,  ''  Be 
faithful  in  great  things,  and  you  will  learn  to  be 
faithful  in  small."  I  have  been  greatly  mis- 
taken about  that  child  which  was  put  into  the 
midst  of  Thy  disciples;  I  have  misread  the 
motive  for  the  deed.  I  have  thought  it  was 
meant  to  teach  me  a  lesson  of  humility.  I  suf- 
fered the  child  to  come  because  I  thought  I  was 
humbling  my  pride.  It  never  occurred  to 
me  till  now  that  I  was  getting  a  model 
for  my  highest  imitation.  It  never  dawned 
on  me  till  now  that  the  duties  of  home  were 
set  before  me  because  the  duties  of  home  were 
the  highest.     But  I  begin  to  see  it  all !   I  begin 


176  TIMES  OF 

to  see  that  there  is  no  sinlessness  so  hard  to 
win  as  sinlessness  ''  in  the  habitation."  Often 
have  I  lost  in  the  household  that  temper  which 
I  controlled  amid  the  crowd;  often  have  I 
yielded  in  the  home  to  that  temptation  which  I 
resisted  in  the  world.  It  is  easy  to  lay  aside  my 
weight  before  the  cloud  of  witnesses ;  but  when 
the  witnesses  are  gone,  the  weight  presses. 
Therefore  I  know  why  Thou  hast  made  the 
child  my  model — the  child  amid  the  duties  of 
home.  Not  Peter  in  the  storm,  not  Matthew  at 
the  receipt  of  custom,  not  Jairus  in  the  hour  of 
grief,  hast  Thou  made  my  model.  The  storm 
incites  to  heroism;  the  receipt  of  custom  keeps 
me  sober;  the  hour  of  grief  withers  earthly 
vanity.  But  the  home  is  the  unheroic  hour, 
the  unguarded  hour,  the  hour  when  I  am  most 
apt  to  be  vain.  If  Thy  Spirit  can  reign  there, 
it  can  reign  everywhere;  I  shall  walk  stainless 
through  the  universe  when  I  can  visit  my 
habitation  and  not  sin. 


RETIREMENT  177 


"  PRAYER  FOR  CHRIST'S  SAKE  " 

"Prayer  shall  be  made  for  Him  continually." 

Psalm  Ixii.   15. 

PRAYER  for  Him!  Prayer  for  the 
Divine  Being — the  Messiah !  Prayer 
for  the  welfare  of  Christ!  The 
words  are  startling,  the  sentiment  more  start- 
ling still.  I  have  been  accustomed  to  pray  for 
those  in  need — for  the  poor,  the  squalid,  the 
vicious.  But  to  pray  for  God.  to  supplicate  in 
behalf  of  a  being  who  is  exalted  above  all  other 
beings — is  not  that  a  profane  thing!  No,  my 
brother;  it  is  very  holy,  very  pious — the  most 
pious  of  all  prayers.  When  you  say  that  your 
Christ  is  exalted  above  all  other  beings  did  it 
never  strike  you  that  you  have  declared  Him  to 
be  in  need !  To  be  exalted  above  all  things  is 
for  Divine  Love  a  source  of  deepest  pain.  The 
pain  of  Divine  Love  is  jiisf  tliis  elevation — this 
eminence,   alone.      It   longs  to  step   down,   to 


178  TIMES  OF 

break  its  solitude.  It  longs  to  behold  in  hu- 
manity a  mirror  of  itself — another  self  whom  it 
can  speak  to.  Did  you  ever  ask  yourself  why 
in  teaching  men  to  pray  our  Lord  told  them 
to  pray  first  for  the  Father  ?  Why  did  He  bid 
them  begin  by  saying  ''  Hallowed  be  Thy  name, 
Thy  kingdom  come,  Thy  will  be  done  "  ?  Was 
not  our  need  of  daily  bread  more  pressing  ?  No. 
Christ  knew  that  there  was  no  hunger  equal  to 
the  hunger  of  the  Father.  He  knew  that  the 
heart  of  Divine  Love  was  famished.  He  knew 
that  the  utmost  human  destitution  cannot  ap- 
proach in  its  intensity  the  want  felt  by  Divine 
Love.  Therefore  before  all  things  He  bids  us 
pity  the  impoverished  heart  of  God — pity  it 
and  pray  for  it.  He  bids  us  remember  the 
Divine  want  ere  we  remember  the  human. 
Think  of  the  Father!  He  cries.  Think  of  the 
Father's  loneliness,  think  of  the  Father's 
prayer!  Remember  Love's  poverty  without 
love!  Remember  the  solitude  of  a  God  with- 
out communion !  Let  Him  have  your  first  sym- 
pathy, your  earnest  prayer! 

O  Thou  who  hast  taken  into  Thy  hand  the 


RETIREMENT  i^^ 

work  of  the  Father,  I  shall  pray  continually  for 
Thee!    I  often  pray  to  Thee;    I  shall  learn  to 
pray  for  Thee.     I  have  been  taught  from  my 
childhood   to   say   ''  for   Christ's   sake,"    ''  for 
Jesus'  sake,"  but  I  did  not  realise  its  meaning. 
I  never  understood  that  I  was  asking  for  Thy 
joy.     I  understand  it  now;  and  my  old  prayer 
gets  a  new  significance  for  me.     I  thought  I 
was  asking  for  my  own  happiness;  I  see  that 
unconsciously  I  was  asking  for  Thine.     Be  it 
no  more  unconsciously,  O  Lord !    Whatever  I 
ask,  let  it  be  for  Thy  sake !    If  I  desire  gold,  let 
it  be  for  Thy  manger!     If  I  desire  the  gift  of 
song,  let  it  be  for  Thy  Bethlehem !    If  I  desire 
the  hour  of  mirth,  let  it  be  for  Thy  Cana !     If 
I  desire  the  joys  of  home,  let  it  be  for  Thy 
Nazareth!     Let  me  treasure  the  alabaster  for 
Thcc,  the  spices  for  Thee,  the  household  wares 
of  Bethany  for  Thee !    If  I  ask  wealth,  let  it  be 
to  feed  Thy  poor!    If  I  ask  health,  let  it  be  to 
bear  Thy  journeys!     If  I  ask  eloquence,  let  it 
be  to  repeat  Thine  accents !    If  I  ask  genius,  let 
it  be  to  plead  Thy  cause!     If  T  ask  beauty,  let 
it  be  to  reflect  Thine  image!     If  I  ask  the 


i8o  TIMES  OF 

strength  of  a  resurrection  body,  let  it  be  to  help 
Thy  burden  up  the  Dolorous  Way!  So  shall 
my  supplications  be  songs  of  love;  my  prayers 
will  all  be  praises  when  they  are  prayers  for 
Thee. 


RETIREMENT  i8i 


"  THE  PROVINCES  OF  LOVE  " 

"/  am  the  rose  of  the  plain  and  the  lily  of  the  valleys." 

Solomon's  Song  ii,  i, 

THE  Song  of  Solomon  depicts  man's 
ideal  of  the  highest  love.  It  says  that 
perfect  love  must  be  fit  for  two  spheres 
— the  plain  and  the  valley ;  it  must  be  a  rose  to 
the  one  and  a  lily  to  the  other.  For,  it  is  be- 
tween these  spheres  that  human  life  oscillates. 
Our  place  of  abode  is  either  in  the  valley  or  on 
the  plain ;  we  never  abide  on  the  mountain.  Be- 
tween the  valley  and  the  plain  we  divide  our 
days.  Some  are  days  of  the  valley — days  of  de- 
pression, days  of  downcastness,  days  when  the 
spirit  is  low.  At  these  times  we  have  no  solace 
like  love;  the  touch  of  a  kindred  sympathy 
blunts  the  edge  of  our  pain.  But  I  think  our 
most  frequent  moments  are  on  the  plain — the 
sphere  of  the  commonplace.  In  the  valley  we 
have  a  sense  of  something  to  bear.     But  on  the 


i82  TIMES  OF 

plain  we  have  a  sense  that  there  is  nothing 
either  to  do  or  to  bear.  We  are  dull,  not 
through  life's  burden,  but  through  life's  mo- 
notony— through  the  yearning  for  something 
new ;  we  want  a  rose  in  our  path.  And  we  find 
it  in  love.  We  find  the  new  thing  in  that  old, 
old  story,  ancient  yet  ever  young — that  story 
which  destroys  the  distinction  between  yester- 
day and  to-day  and  to-morrow. 

Even  such,  O  Christ,  is  the  power  of  my 
love  for  Thee!  It  fits  me  both  for  the  valley 
and  for  the  plain.  It  is  my  lily  for  the  valley ; 
it  is  my  rose  for  the  plain.  When  I  am  down 
in  the  vale,  oppressed  with  my  toiling  and  my 
spinning,  it  becomes  my  lily ;  it  teaches  me  to  be 
spontaneous,  to  forget  myself  in  Thee.  And 
when  I  stand  on  the  common  plain  seeing  only 
life's  monotony,  it  becomes  my  rose;  it  makes 
my  prosaic  world  a  garden.  I  thank  Thee  for 
these  flowers  of  Thy  love.  I  thank  Thee  that  it 
has  strengthened  me  both  for  the  valley  and  for 
the  plain.  I  thank  Thee  that  it  has  been  at  once 
my  lily  and  my  rose.  Ever  let  there  remain  to 
me  these  two  flowers  of  Thy  love — the  flower 
of   self-forgetfulness   and   the   flower   of   out- 


RETIREMENT  183 

ward  radiance !  When  I  am  down  in  the  valley, 
when  I  am  weighted  with  the  burden  of  care, 
make  Thy  love  my  lily!  Help  me  in  the  sun- 
shine of  Thy  presence  to  grow  as  the  lily  grows 
— unconscious  of  the  earth  that  hems  it  round ! 
When  I  am  walking  on  the  level  plain,  when  my 
soul  is  drooping  for  want  of  something  new, 
make  Thy  love  my  rose!  Help  me,  through  the 
sunshine  of  Thy  presence,  to  see  the  radiance 
of  common  things — the  glow  beyond  colour, 
the  grace  beyond  form,  the  light  that  never 
shone  on  sea  or  shore!  So  shall  my  valley  be 
harmless ;  so  shall  my  plain  be  glorious.  Each 
side  shall  have  its  flower — love's  flower.  And 
the  flower  of  Thy  love  shall  keep  me  both  in 
plain  and  vale — keep  me  in  the  absence  of  the 
heights,  keep  me  in  the  presence  of  the  great 
deep. 


i84  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  LATENESS  OF  ABRAHAM'S 
SACRIFICE  " 

"  And  it  came  to  pass  after  these  things,  that  God  did 
tempt  Abraham." — Genesis  xxii.  i. 

44  A  FTER  these  things  " — as  the  sequel  to 
/"\  all  the  experiences  of  his  life.  Is 
not  that  a  strange  place  to  assign  to 
a  sacrificial  temptation !  Should  we  not  be  dis- 
posed to  test  a  man  at  the  beginning  of  his  ca- 
reer! Why  is  Abraham  put  to  the  test  at  sun- 
set? Why  has  the  sacrificial  hour  waited  for 
his  closing  years?  Is  not  youth  the  season  in 
which  a  man's  power  of  sacrifice  would  be  the 
truest  measure  of  him  ?  No,  it  is  not.  It  is,  no 
doubt,  the  season  when  we  hear  most  about 
sacrifice.  Young  people  often  cultivate  melan- 
choly, often  figure  to  themselves  wonderful 
plans  for  self-surrender.  But  we  do  not  much 
value  these.  Why?  Because  we  feel  that  they 
are  offering  to  give  up  something  they  have 


RETIREMENT  j8j 

never  tasted.  It  is  not  at  the  threshold  of  life 
that  life  reveals  its  beauty;  it  is  after  you  have 
climbed  the  stairs.  The  romance  of  youth  is  the 
search  of  youth  for  another  world.  The  reason 
why  in  after  life  romance  dies  is  because  actual 
things  become  precious.  Only  when  they  have 
become  precious  is  the  life  of  sacrifice  a  Hfe  of 
unselfishness.  You  must  have  the  Transfigu- 
ration previous  to  the  Cross.  The  gift  must  be 
dear  to  you  ere  the  giving  to  another  can  be 
sweet.  Before  God  tempts  Abraham  He  must 
appeal  to  a  joy  of  Abraham's  heart,  "  Thy  son 
whom  thou  lovest." 

And  so,  my  Lord,  has  it  been  with  Thy  sacri- 
fice !  The  life  Thou  hast  given  for  me  was  not 
a  life  which  by  Thee  was  counted  light  in 
weight.  Thine  was  no  pessimist  offering — no 
surrender  of  a  withered  flower.  Not  because 
earth  to  Thee  was  barren  didst  Thou  resign  it. 
Not  because  its  streams  had  ceased  to  gladden 
Thee  didst  Thou  desert  their  banks.  Earth  was 
not  barren  to  Thee;  its  streams  had  never  lost 
their  joyous  music.  Thou  wert  ''  crowned  with 
glory  and  honour  "  for  Thy  sacrifice.  The  life 
resigned  by  Thee  was  a  life  of  beauty — a  life 


i86  TIMES  OF 

whose  beauty  was  recognised  by  Thee,  enjoyed 
by  Thee.  Thou  hadst  tasted  of  every  pure  de- 
hght  ere  Thou  wert  called  to  lay  life  down; 
hadst  revelled  with  the  bird  of  the  air;  hadst 
sat  in  the  temple  of  wisdom;  hadst  ministered 
to  the  marriage  feast;  hadst  watched  the  gam- 
bols of  children;  hadst  known  the  delights  of 
friendship;  hadst  felt  the  endearments  of 
home;  hadst  experienced  the  luxury  of  human 
devotion.  Life  had  opened  every  door  to  Thee. 
Not  because  life  was  poor,  but  because  love 
was  rich,  didst  Thou  climb  that  cross  of 
pain.  So  would  I  climb  with  Thee!  I  would 
climb  for  love — for  love  alone.  I  would  not 
seek  heaven  because  I  despaired  of  earth;  I 
would  bring  my  earthly  treasures  into  heaven. 
I  would  not  fly  to  Thee  in  the  winter  of  my 
heart.  I  would  come  when  my  heart  was  sum- 
mer^when  its  leaves  were  green.  I  would 
bring  Thee  the  full-blown  rose,  t^  «ipest  i4-uit, 
the  finest  songs  of  the  grove.  I  would  break 
the  alabaster  box  for  Thee,  not  when  it  was 
empty,  but  when  it  was  laden  w^ith  perfume.  I 
would  make  my  sacrifice  a  sacrifice  of  praise. 


RETIREMENT  187 


"THE   FIRE  WITHOUT  THE  LAMB" 

"  Isaac  said,  Behold  tJic  fire  and  the  wood,  hut  where 
is  the  lamb  fur  a  burnt  offering f" — Genesis  xxii.  7. 

THE  experience  of  Isaac  in  the  hour  of 
sacrifice  is  not  an  unusual  one.  There 
are  many  who  feel  the  inward  fire, 
but  who  have  no  object  to  lay  upon  it;  they  cry 
''  Behold  the  fire  and  the  wood,  but  where  is  the 
lamb !  "  There  are  many  who  would  be  clergy- 
men if  they  had  the  means.  There  are  many 
who  would  be  missionaries  if  they  had  the 
talent.  There  are  many  who  would  be  sick- 
nurses  if  they  had  the  strength.  To  such  the 
story  of  Isaac  should  bring  deep  comfort.  It 
tells  of  a  man  who  had  the  fire  in  his  heart, 
but  nothing  in  his  hand.  And  the  fire  in  the 
heart  was  accepted  as  a  substitute  for  something 
in  the  hand.  Isaac  could  have  said,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  hymn,  "  Nothing  in  my  hands  I 
bring."     He  had  no  mission-field  to   till,  no 


i88  TIMES  OF 

hospital  to  tend,  no  district  to  visit.  He  had 
nothing  to  give  but  himself — his  will,  his  in- 
ward fire;  there  was  no  lamb.  Yet  God  ac- 
cepted him  zvithout  the  lamb — without  the  mis- 
sion-field, without  the  tended  district,  without 
the  hospital  service.  God  accepted  the  inward 
combustion,  the  fire  in  the  soul,  the  seal  in  the 
spirit,  the  intention  of  the  heart.  The  lamb 
was  only  slain  in  imagination ;  but  the  imagina- 
tion was  counted  a  reality;  the  offering  was 
deemed  complete. 

So  shall  it  be  with  thee,  my  brother !  When 
thy  spirit  is  willing  and  thy  flesh  is  weak,  re- 
member Isaac!  Remember  that  the  lamb  God 
sees  is  the  lamb  in  the  heart !  I  hear  thee  speak 
of  the  difference  between  the  imaginary  and 
the  real.  But  to  thy  Father  the  most  real  thing 
about  thee  is  thine  imagining.  Not  what  thou 
art  able  to  do,  but  what  thou  art  able  to  zvill,  is 
the  measure  of  thee.  The  world  will  judge  thee 
by  thy  deeds;  the  Father  will  judge  thee  by 
thine  aspirings.  Thou  canst  not  build  a  tower 
that  will  reach  to  heaven ;  but  thou  canst  build 
a  thought  that  will  reach  to  heaven.  And  thy 
thought  is  the  building  which  the  Father  sees. 


RETIREMENT  189 

The  rainbow  in  the  flood  of  thy  sins  is  not 
thy  power  to  fly;  it  is  thy  power  to  feel;  this 
is  the  true  arch  between  earth  and  heaven. 
It  makes  the  comfort  of  thy  Father;  let  it  be 
thy  comfort,  too!  Thy  flesh  is  weak,  but  thy 
spirit  is  ready;  keep  thine  eye  upon  thy  spirit! 
When  thou  art  impressed  with  how  little  thou 
hast  done  for  Christ,  remember  what  thou  hast 
planned  to  do !  Remember  what  fields  thou  hast 
traversed  for  Him  in  fancy!  Remember  the 
long  roads  on  which  thy  love  desired  to  go! 
Remember  the  stormy  seas  on  which  thy  de- 
votion longed  to  sail!  Remember  the  hills  of 
difficulty  on  which  thy  feet  aspired  to  stand! 
Remember  the  battles  thou  wert  willing  to  fight, 
the  burdens  thou  wert  eager  to  bear,  the  succour 
thou  wert  sighing  to  send !  These  are  thine  un- 
spoken sacrifices;  these  are  thy  moments  on 
Moriah's  Mount.  The  fuel  in  the  heart  seems 
to  have  been  fired  in  vain ;  but  in  the  surrender 
of  thine  inmost  will  God  has  provided  a  lamb 
for  the  burnt  offering. 


I90  TIMES  OF 


"  ASCETICISM  " 

"  Lay  not  thine  hand  itt>on  the  lad,  for  now  I  know 
that  thou  fearcst  God." — Genesis  xxii.  12. 

AND  SO,  my  Father  does  not  need  any 
pain !  I  used  to  think  that  He  did.  I 
used  to  think  that  pain  was  inseparable 
from  holiness.  I  used  to  measure  a  man's  piety 
by  his  gloom.  The  scene  on  Mount  Moriah 
puts  this  error  to  flight.  Why  is  Abraham 
called  to  suffer  pain?  Because  he  is  a  man  of 
ripe  holiness  ?  No ;  because  he  is  a  man  whose 
ripeness  has  not  been  proved.  The  moment  it 
is  proved,  the  pain  ceases.  Isaac  is  given  back 
to  him.  The  sacrifice  is  repealed.  The  act  of 
asceticism  is  forbidden.  The  process  of  im- 
molation is  pronounced  unnecessary.  It  is  pro- 
nounced unnecessary  because  holiness  is  proved, 
because  the  gates  of  the  religious  life  have  been 


RETIREMENT  191 

opened,  ''  Put  not  thine  hand  upon  the  lad,  for 
now  I  know  that  thou  fearest  God." 

So  shall  it  be  with  thee,  O  my  soul!  Why 
admirest  thou  the  men  who  court  religious 
pain!  Why  buildest  thou  a  monument  to  the 
sons  of  the  desert — the  Abrahams  who  have 
given  up  their  Isaac  just  in  order  that  they 
might  feel  sad !  Thinkest  thou  that  such  sad- 
ness is  dear  to  thy  Father !  When  His  voice  is 
heard  in  the  garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day, 
will  it  please  Him  to  find  Adam  in  a  heat  of 
perplexity !  Shall  love  be  glad  when  its  object 
trembles  at  its  tread !  Shall  love  be  glad  when 
its  presence  is  greeted  with  tears!  Shall  love 
be  glad  when  its  footfall  on  the  stair  awakes  a 
cry  of  agony!  Nay,  my  soul,  thy  Father  is 
waiting  for  thy  joy.  Thou  callest  thy  days  of 
joy  summer  days;  so  does  thy  Father.  Thy 
summer  is  thy  ripeness.  Thou  hast  not  perfect 
liberty  with  man  till  thou  hast  basked  in  the 
light  of  God.  It  is  not  on  the  top  of  the  hill 
that  thou  art  called  to  give  up  thine  Isaac ;  it  is 
at  the  hiUfoot.  It  is  from  thy  zvorldly  state 
that  thy  Father  demands  asceticism.  Is  it  not 
written,  ''  You  are  not  straitened  in  Christ;  you 


192  TIMES  OF 

are  straitened  in  your  own  affections !  "  It  is 
not  Christ  that  narrows  thee;  it  is  the  want  of 
Christ.  To  whom  does  He  say,  ''  Go  not  into 
the  way  of  the  Gentiles  " !  Is  it  to  the  de- 
veloped band  of  disciples?  No,  it  is  to  the 
primitive  band.  It  is  to  the  men  that  have  not 
yet  seen  the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory. 
But,  my  soul,  if  thou  wilt  reach  the  summit  of 
Mount  Moriah,  it  will  be  otherwise  with  thee. 
From  the  top  of  the  hill  thou  shalt  see  the  glory 
of  the  outspread  land.  Isaac  shall  be  restored 
to  thee  on  the  mountain  summit.  Old  limits 
shall  be  broken;  old  prohibitions  shall  be  an- 
nulled. For  thee  the  way  of  the  Gentiles  shall 
be  opened.  The  freedom  of  the  city  shall  be 
given  thee — the  freedom  of  the  City  of  God. 
Thou  shalt  be  lord  of  the  Sabbath  in  fellowship 
with  the  Son  of  Man — thou  shalt  walk  in  the 
cornfields  with  untarnished  holiness.  Thine 
shall  be  the  joys  of  Cana;  thine  shall  be  the 
joys  of  Bethany.  For  thee  all  the  birds  of  Gali- 
lee shall  sing;  for  thee  all  the  flowers  of  Sharon 
shall  bloom.  The  world  shall  be  thine ;  life  shall 
be  thine;  principalities  and  powers  shall  be 
thine.    The  river  of  God's  pleasures  shall  give 


RETIREMENT  i^^ 

thee  back  thy  pleasures.  The  fountain  of  Divine 
life  shall  return  the  spray  of  the  earthly  sea. 
Thy  surrendered  Isaac  shall  meet  thee  at  the 
top  of  the  hill. 


194  TIMES  OF 


"  GOD'S  HIGHEST  GLORY  " 

"  Thou  hast  magnified  Thy  word  above  all  Thy  name** 

Psalm  cxxxviii.  2. 

I  UNDERSTAND  the  idea  to  be  "  Thou 
hast  magnified  Thy  still  voice  in  the  soul 
above  all  Thy  majesty  in  nature/'  The 
"name"  of  God  means  His  "majesty;"  the 
"  word  "  of  God  means  His  "  voice  in  the  in- 
dividual soul."  The  Psalmist  declares  that  the 
latter,  unobtrusive  as  it  is,  is  the  most  direct 
testimony  to  the  Divine.  I  agree  with  the 
Psalmist ;  and  none  the  less  because  it  is  not  the 
common  opinion.  The  common  opinion  is  that 
the  sense  of  God's  majesty  in  nature  should 
dwarf  our  estimate  of  our  own  personal  puny 
thoughts.  I  cannot  receive  this  saying.  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  a  study  of  astronomy  must 
shake  my  faith  in  Christ — must  reveal  my  tiny 
life  over  against  a  boundless  universe — must 
make  me  say  "What  is  man!"     But  I  have 


RETIREMENT  195 

always  felt  that  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world 
is  just  an  individual  soul.  I  magnify  one  throb 
of  consciousness  above  all  the  united  masses  of 
the  material  creation.  There  is  nothing  over- 
powering to  my  pride  in  vast  spaces.  All  the 
spaces  of  the  universe  do  not  wake  in  me  the 
wonder  that  I  get  from  the  experience  of  a 
single  grief  or  joy.  If  I  were  told  to  a  cer- 
tainty that  these  starry  worlds  were  unin- 
habited, I  think  that,  instead  of  looking  up  to 
them  reverently,  I  should  look  down  on  them 
patronisingly.  The  only  thing  that  keeps  them 
up  in  my  sky  is  the  thought  that  perhaps  in- 
dividual souls  are  there — that  perhaps  within 
them  there  dwells  the  resignation  of  a  patient 
sufferer,  or  beats  the  hopeful  heart  of  a  little 
child. 

My  soul,  art  thou  trembling  beneath  the 
stars?  Art  thou  oppressed  by  the  weight  of 
thine  own  nothingness?  Art  thou  looking  up 
into  the  night,  with  the  Israelite  of  old,  and 
saying  ''  When  I  consider  Thy  heavens,  how 
can  there  be  room  for  man?  Rather  shouldst 
thou  say  "  When  I  consider  man,  I  find  room 
for  the  heavens."    It  is  thou  that  justiHcst  the 


196  TIMES  OF 

starry  spaces.  They  have  no  magnificence  to 
the  heart  if  they  be  not  the  habitation  of  in- 
dividual souls.  In  vain  we  cast  the  eye  over 
myriad  fields  of  light,  in  vain  we  cast  the  tele- 
scope over  fields  beyond  the  eye,  in  vain  we  cast 
the  imagination  over  fields  beyond  the  tele- 
scope; the  heart  will  still  ask  the  question,  "  For 
whom  is  this  glory?"  In  vain  the  spaces 
sparkle  if  there  be  no  sense  of  sight;  in  vain  the 
lustre  lingers  if  there  be  no  sense  of  beauty; 
in  vain  the  worlds  are  woven  if  there  be  no 
sense  of  home.  Not  light  but  love,  not  space 
but  spirit,  is  the  glory  of  thy  Father.  All  the 
outgoings  of  the  morning  do  not  equal  thy 
morning  prayer.  All  the  reflection  of  the  eve- 
ning sun  pales  before  the  reflectiveness  of  thy 
evening  hour.  Thou  mayst  be  an  infant  crying 
in  the  infinite  night ;  yet  thine  infancy  is  bigger 
than  the  night's  infinitude.  Magnify  thine 
ofBce,  O  my  soul! 


RETIREMENT  197 


*'  AN  AGNOSTICISM  THAT  NEED  NOT 
DESPAIR  " 

"  Who  is  among  you  that  fcareth  the  Lord,  that  obey- 
eth  the  voice  of  His  servant^  that  walketh  in  darkness, 
and  hath  no  light f  Let  him  trust  in  the  name  *  f  thj 
Lord." — Isaiali  1.  lo. 

A  GOD-FEARING  agnostic !— that  is  an 
expression  which  one  never  hears  in 
this  world ;  it  seems  a  contradiction  in 
terms.  Yet  in  this  passage  a  man  is  described 
in  almost  exactly  these  words.  There  is 
brought  before  us  one  who  fears  God,  obeys  the 
servant  of  God,  and  yet  walks  in  darkness. 
When  the  prophet  asks,  ''  What  man  is  hcf  " 
we  are  disposed  to  answer,  ''  He  is  a  creature 
of  the  imagination."  And  yet  verily  he  is  a 
creature  of  the  street ;  you  will  meet  him  every 
day.  There  is  among  us  a  man  who  keeps  the 
law  of  Sinai,  though  he  has  never  seen  the 
smoke  and  flame  of  Sinai.  He  has  no  light 
from  the  mount ;  yet  he  stumbles  very  little 


198  TIMES  OF 

on  the  plain.  He  is  a  sceptic  about  Elijah's 
chariot;  but  he  ministers  to  Elijah's  hunger. 
He  does  not  say  "  Our  Father,  which  art  in 
heaven ;  "  but  he  makes  an  excellent  son  to  his 
parents  on  earth.  He  does  not  attach  himself 
to  a  church;  but  he  is  enrolled  in  the  brother- 
hood of  man.  He  does  not  speak  the  words, 
"  Thy  will  be  done;  "  but  he  bears  bravely  many 
human  ills.  He  prays  not  publicly  for  daily 
bread;  but  he  answers  many  prayers  of  others 
for  it.  He  supplicates  not  the  Divine  pardon; 
but  he  often  asks  pardon  of  his  brother.  How 
shall  I  account  for  this  man?  As  the  prophet 
seems  to  account  for  him.  I  think  he  is  a  crea- 
ture of  unconscious  faith — faith  by  heredity, 
faith  derived  from  ancestors,  faith  so  habitual 
to  generations  that  its  presence  has  ceased  to  be 
perceived.  He  is  like  a  man  in  a  room  where  a 
clock  is  ticking.  He  says  he  does  not  hear  it; 
it  is  because  he  hears  it  too  well. 

In  the  ranks  of  Thy  great  army,  O  Lord, 
there  are  souls  that  never  consciously  enlisted 
there.  There  are  souls  that  have  never  taken 
the  oath  of  allegiance,  yet  who  follow  Thy 
march  up  the  arduous  way.     When  I  number 


RETIREMENT 


99 


Thine  army,  I  do  not  count  these  in — do  not 
call  them  Thy  soldiers.  I  am  wrong!  help  me 
to  revise  my  judgment!  I  have  read  of  Mary 
Magdalene  meeting  Thee  at  the  sepulchre  and 
taking  Thee  for  the  gardener.  I  have  read  of 
two  disciples  walking  with  Thee  toward  Em- 
maus  and  burning  at  Thy  words,  yet  knowing 
not  who  spoke  to  them.  Both  Mary  and  the 
disciples  would  at  that  time  have  said,  ''  I  have 
not  seen  the  risen  Christ."  Yet  they  had  seen 
Thee,  they  had  talked  with  Thee ;  the  Lord  was 
in  that  place  and  they  knew  it  not.  Even  so, 
there  are  many  of  us  who  are  only  on  the 
Emmaus  road.  There  are  those  who  feel  the 
burning  at  the  heart,  but  attribute  its  enthusi- 
asm to  human  causes ;  they  know  not  that  they 
speak  with  Thee.  Thou  shalt  enroll  them  in 
Thy  celestial  army!  They  wrestle  for  Thee, 
like  Jacob's  angel,  until  the  breaking  of  the 
day;  but,  again  like  Jacob's  angel,  they  have  as- 
sumed no  name.  Thou  shalt  give  them  a  name; 
Thou  shalt  write  Thy  name  upon  their  fore- 
heads; Thou  shalt  fix  their  designation  by  pro- 
nouncing the  words  of  blessing,  ''  They  shall  be 
called  the  children  of  God." 


200  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  REJECTED  OF  THE  WORLD  " 

*'  They  say  unto  Him,  No  man  hath  hired  us.  He  saith 
unto  them.  Go  ye  also  into  the  vineyard." — Matt.  xx.  7. 

THE  men  here  spoken  of  are  the  men 
standing  idle  in  the  market-place  at 
the  eleventh  hour.  They  have  come 
to  the  last  hour  of  the  working  day,  and  still 
no  man  has  hired  them.  Jesus  employs  the 
world's  ifMemployed.  He  finds  a  place  in  the 
vineyard  for  those  whom  the  world  considers 
ineligible.  Heaven  has  more  trust  in  earth 
than  earth  has  in  herself.  Why  are  so  many 
standing  idle  at  the  eleventh  hour?  It  is 
through  the  distrust  of  their  fellows.  There 
are  more  available  workers  in  the  world  than 
man  recognises.  We  neglect  all  lives  that 
have  at  any  time  gone  wrong.  We  will  not 
trust  the  shipwrecked  mariners  with  a  second 
ship.  We  will  not  admit  the  possibility  of  fra- 
grance in  the  box  of  ointment  which  has  been 


RETIREMENT  loi 

broken.  The  life  which  has  caught  a  stain  is 
thereafter  a  banished  Hfe,  a  proscribed  life,  a 
life  not  to  be  utilised.  Jesus  has  more  faith 
in  man.  He  refuses  to  disregard  the  men  of 
the  eleventh  hour.  He  refuses  to  despair  of 
those  whom  zve  have  discarded.  He  insists  in 
giving  a  chance  to  unlikely  subjects.  Has  He 
not  proved  right!  His  greatest  worker  was  a 
man  of  the  eleventh  hour — the  man  Paul.  The 
fellow-labourers  of  that  man  would  not  look  at 
him;  but  the  risen  Christ  broke  bread  with 
him;  the  fragments  that  remained  from  that 
feast  have  been  the  spiritual  food  of  the  world ! 
O  Thou  Divine  Love,  I  thank  Thee  for  the 
depth  of  Thy  hope  for  man !  Many  of  us  be- 
long to  the  eleventh  hour;  we  have  been  re- 
jected by  our  fellows;  we  have  been  turned 
from  the  threshold  of  the  vineyard.  We  made 
a  false  step  in  the  past;  we  committed  some 
mistake  in  judgment;  we  yielded  to  some  hour 
of  temptation.  And  on  the  strength  of  that 
error  the  world  has  cast  us  out;  there  is  no 
room  in  her  vineyard  for  the  feet  that  have 
stumbled.  But  there  is  room  in  Tliine.  Thou 
hast  gone  forth  at  the  eleventh  hour  in  soli- 


ao2  TIMES  OF 

tude.  There  were  no  human  hirers  of  labour 
at  that  hour;  Thou  hast  trodden  the  winepress 
alone,  and  of  the  people  there  was  none  with 
Thee.  The  eleventh  hour  brought  no  bidders 
but  Thee.  Nobody  will  give  work  to  Saul  of 
Tarsus.  Nobody  will  give  work  to  the  peni- 
tent thief.  Nobody  will  give  work  to  the  late- 
coming  Nicodemus.  Their  fellow-men  are  all 
afraid  of  them,  are  shrinking  from  them.  But 
Thou  art  not  afraid.  Thou  hast  more  trust  in 
the  world  than  the  world  has  in  itself.  Thou 
hast  gathered  them  in — the  unlikely  ones,  the 
man-rejected  ones.  Thou  hast  risked  what  my 
brother  would  not  risk.  Thou  hast  put  Thy 
trust  in  the  soiled  garment,  in  the  besmeared 
robe,  in  the  dilapidated  visage.  Thou  hast  ac- 
cepted the  life  at  its  lowest,  the  night  at  its 
darkest.  Thou  hast  called  human  souls  into 
the  vineyard  from  the  graveyard.  I  marvel  at 
Thy  faith,  O  Son  of  Man ! 


RETIREMENT 


203 


"THE    MORNING    AND    THE   AFTER- 
NOON " 

"  Ye  shall  go  out  with  joy,  and  be  led  forth  with  peace.'* 

Isaiah  Iv.  12. 

IS  there  not  a  subsiding  here!  We  go  out 
with  joy,  but  we  are  led  onward  with 
peace!  Is  not  the  transition  from  joy 
to  peace  a  diminution  of  energy?  No,  it  is  a 
balance  of  energy.  It  is  the  change  from  a 
rapid  river  to  a  deep  summer  ocean.  You 
might  say,  in  a  sense,  that  the  rapid  river  sub- 
sides  into  the  deep  summer  ocean;  to  subside 
means  to  sit  down,  and  this  is  a  sitting  down. 
Yet,  in  its  settled  calm,  the  ocean  has  more 
energy  than  the  river;  no  one  would  compare 
the  extent  of  their  powers.  Human  life  ex- 
hibits some  such  transition.  It  passes  from 
joy  to  peace.  It  begins  with  joy.  It  goes  out 
into  the  world  with  youth's  elastic  step;  it  sees 
in  anticipation  a  city  whose  streets  are  paved 


204  TIMES  OF 

with  gold.  By  and  by  the  excitement  ceases. 
The  tints  become  more  sober,  the  paths  less 
roseate.  Romance  settles  down  into  duty; 
daily  work  takes  the  place  of  heroic  aspira- 
tion; joy  becomes  peace.  Yet  the  duty  is 
stronger  than  the  romance;  the  daily  work  is 
more  difficult  than  the  heroic  aspiration;  the 
peace  is  more  powerful  than  the  joy.  Love  in 
the  nest  is  better  than  love  on  the  wing.  It  is 
less  brilliant,  but  it  has  more  energy.  What 
is  the  test  of  energy?  It  is  permanence. 
Peace  is  more  permanent  than  joy.  Joy  flut- 
ters for  an  hour,  but  its  very  fluttering  makes 
it  weary;  peace  never  moves  its  wing  for  flight, 
but  in  its  quiet  nest  it  can  abide  for  ever. 

My  soul,  it  is  so  with  thy  life  in  Jesus! 
Thou,  too,  hast  thy  time  of  going  out  and 
thy  time  of  quiet  progress — thy  period  of  joy 
and  thy  period  of  peace.  At  first  thou  art 
lifted  up.  Earth  recedes  from  thy  view  and 
the  inhabitants  thereof  become  as  grasshop- 
pers; it  seems  to  thee  as  if  thou  couldst 
reach  heaven  ere  nightfall.  By  and  by  thy 
wing  becomes  weary  and  thou  fallest  to  the 
ground.   Thou  art  compelled  to  tread  the  earth 


RETIREMENT 


205 


once  more.  The  golden  streets  of  the  New 
Jerusalem  arc  exchanged  for  lane  and  alley. 
The  prospect  of  heroic  sacrifices  is  replaced  by 
the  call  to  trivial  daily  duty;  and,  instead  of 
the  command  to  bid  the  world  good-bye,  there 
comes  the  prosaic  message,  "  Go,  work  to-day 
in  my  vineyard !  "  Rejoice,  my  soul !  thy  fall 
is  a  rise.  Thy  peace  is  larger  than  thy  joy. 
Thy  peace  is  better  than  thy  poetry.  Has  a 
cloud  hid  thy  Transfiguration  glory?  Weep 
not!  that  hiding  is  a  revealing;  it  brings  thee 
down  to  the  plain.  Is  there  silence  in  heaven 
for  the  space  of  half  an  hour?  Weep  not!  the 
silence  of  the  New  Jersualem  bells  will  let  thee 
hear  the  sound  of  earth's  many  voices.  The 
joy  of  the  morning  can  make  thee  forget  thy 
cares;  but  the  peace  of  the  afternoon  recalls 
thee  to  the  memory  of  the  cares  of  man! 


2o6  TIMES  OF 


"THE    REMEDY    FOR    A    WOUNDED 
HEART " 

"  He  healeth  the  broken  in  heart,  and  bindeth  up  their 
wounds." — Psalm  cxlvii.  3. 

THE  setting  of  a  broken  limb  does  not 
involve  an  immediate  healing  of  the 
wound.  Neither  does  the  setting  of  a 
broken  heart.  A  broken  heart  is  a  heart  whose 
movement  is  paralysed.  It  is  a  heart  which 
has  lost  the  use  of  its  wing,  and  is  incapacitated 
for  locomotion ;  it  is  unfit  to  take  its  part  in  the 
world.  To  heal  the  breakage  is  to  restore  its 
power  of  movement,  and  enable  it  to  do  its 
work  in  life.  But  to  heal  the  breakage  is  not 
to  heal  the  wound;  that  may  still  continue  for 
a  long  time.  Even  Christ  does  not  promise  an 
immediate  healing  of  the  wound.  But  He 
promises  an  immediate  binding  of  it.  He 
promises  to  arrest  the  flow  of  its  bleeding,  so 
that  we  shall  be  able  to  move  about  in  spite 


RETIREMENT  207 

of  it,  to  do  our  work  in  spite  of  it.  What  is 
this  wonderful  Hgament  with  which  Christ 
binds  the  wounds  of  the  once-broken  heart? 
It  is  the  sympathy  with  another's  pain;  it  is 
the  remembrance  that  I  suffer  not  alone.  The 
sympathy  with  my  brother  restrains  my  per- 
sonal outflow.  It  takes  away  the  egotism  of 
my  grief.  I  no  longer  feel  that  a  strange  thing 
has  befallen  me.  I  no  longer  resent  the  rain- 
cloud  as  a  special  wrong.  I  feel  that  it  is  not 
special — that  it  is  universal.  It  is  the  thought 
of  this  that  stops  the  outward  bleeding  of  my 
heart.  It  makes  me  refuse  to  show  my  wound. 
It  forbids  me  to  cry  out  in  the  streets  as  if  I 
were  a  solitary  sufferer.  It  says,  "  Think  what 
your  brother  must  feel;  he  has  the  same  pains 
as  you !  "  It  bids  me  count  the  burdens  of  the 
passers-by;  and,  as  I  count,  I  forget  to  remem- 
ber my  own. 

Lord,  when  I  am  labouring,  and  heavy  laden, 
bind  me  with  Thy  yoke!  Nothing  hut  Thy 
yoke  can  bind  my  wounds.  Thy  yoke  is  hu- 
manity— a  sense  of  the  common  pain.  There  is 
nothing  that  will  cover  my  personal  scars  like 
Thy  Cross.    Let  me  join  the  procession  to  Thy 


2o8  TIMES  OF 

Cross;  let  me  help  Thee  to  bear  it  up  the 
Dolorous  Way!  Grant  me  the  power  to  share 
Thy  pain — the  universal  pain!  Nothing  else 
will  bind  my  wounds.  I  have  heard  a  singer 
tell  how,  when  his  burden  fell  into  the  sea, 
the  sorrow  of  others  overshadowed  him.  But 
Thine  is  the  opposite  order;  the  sorrows  of 
others  first  overshadow  me  and  then  my  bur- 
den falls.  In  vain  shall  I  stand  on  the  bridge 
at  midnight  and  gaze  into  the  dark  waters  if 
all  I  see  therein  is  the  shadow  of  my  own  grief ! 
Reveal  Thy  shadow,  O  Christ — the  shadow  of 
humanity!  Let  me  see  in  the  water  Thy 
marred  visage — ^marred  with  the  sorrows  of 
Man!  My  heart  will  never  cease  to  be  hot 
and  restless  until  I  have  felt  the  heat  and  rest- 
lessness of  other  hearts — the  burden  of  Thy 
Cross.  Thy  shadow  will  bring  me  light.  Thy 
darkness  will  bring  me  dawn.  The  carrying 
of  Thy  Cross  will  give  lightness  to  my  own. 
The  pity  for  Thy  tears  will  wipe  all  mine  from 
the  eyes.  My  bleeding  wounds  will  be  bound 
when  I  hear  the  words,  "  Good  and  faithful 
servant,  enter  thou  into  the  pain  of  thy  Lord !  " 


RETIREMENT  209 


"THE  SAFEGUARD    AGAINST 
DESPAIR  " 

"Strengthen  the  things  which  remain/' 

Rev.  iii.  2. 

THERE  are  two  courses  which  have 
been  proposed  as  a  safeguard  against 
despair.  The  first  and  most  common 
is  the  disparagement  of  the  thing  lost.  It  is 
the  method  of  the  fox  in  .^sop's  fable;  the 
grapes  become  sour  when  they  are  lifted  out 
of  reach.  Many  a  schoolboy,  when  he  loses 
the  prize,  says  it  is  not  worth  having.  Many 
a  man  when  he  fails  to  get  an  appointment 
says,  "It  is  a  poor  thing;  I  wouldn't  have 
taken  it."  To  speak  thus  is  to  give  loss  a  great 
victory.  It  is  to  assert  that  we  have  not  only 
lost  the  object  but  have  been  deprived  of  our 
love  for  it.  Never  encourage  such  a  sentiment ! 
I  agree  with  Tennyson  that  it  is  better  to  keep 
your  grief  than  to  lose  your  love.     But  there 


2IO  TIMES  OF 

is  another  way  of  avoiding  despair  when  loss 
comes.  It  is  the  way  prescribed  by  the  man 
of  Patmos — the  man  who  was  separated  from 
his  dearest  by  a  cruel  sea.  Does  he  say  that 
these  things  separated  from  him  are  not 
worth  having?  On  the  contrary,  he  longs  for 
the  time  when  there  shall  be  ^'  no  more  "  sea. 
But  meantime  there  is  another  refuge,  a  better 
refuge,  than  the  sourness  of  the  grapes  re- 
moved from  him;  it  is  the  sweetness  of  the 
grapes  that  are  left  to  him.  To  all  souls  and 
to  all  Churches  which  have  suffered  loss  *he 
stretches  out  his  hands,  and  cries,  "  Strengthen 
the  things  which  remain !  " 

O  thou  who  in  the  time  of  loss  seest  no  ref- 
uge but  either  despair  or  disparagement,  I 
show  thee  a  more  excellent  way!  I  would 
not  have  thee  disparage  thy  dead.  I  would  not 
have  thee  drop  them  from  thy  memory  as  if 
they  had  never  been.  But  I  would  have  thee 
to  turn  memory  into  present  love — to  make 
thy  remembrance  of  the  dead  a  means  of  de- 
votion to  the  living.  I  have  heard  the  child 
in  Mrs.  TTemans'  poem  say.  "  O  wliilc  my 
brother   with    me   ])]ayc(l,    wcnild    I    had    loved 


RETIREMENT  ^ii 

him  more!  "    It  is  a  very  pretty  sentiment  and 
a  very  common  experience.    But  I  do  not  think 
the  full  moral  is  given  when  the  child  in  this 
poem  is  told  "  Thy  brother  is  in  heaven."     If 
we  stop  with  that  statement  we  nip  in  the  bud 
the  aspiration  after  better  conduct.     I  would 
say  to  the  child:  "You  have  other  playmates 
who  are  still  on  earth.    They,  too,  may  be  soon 
called  from  you.     Whenever  you  think  of  how 
much  more    you    might    have    done  for  the 
brother  you  have  lost,  remember  those  play- 
mates who  remain !    Remember  that  when  they 
go  you  will  have  the  same  remorse  for  them; 
try  as  much  as  you  can  to  love  them  now !  "    So 
would  I  say  to  the  child;  and  so,  my  brother, 
I  say  to  thee.     Sink    not  in    despair    at    the 
memory  of  thy  shortcomings  to  those  whom 
thou  canst  help  no  longer !     Turn  that  memory 
into    present    love!     Remember    those    whom 
thou  canst  help!     Remember  the  children  that 
are  still  playing  in  the  market-place!     Remem- 
ber the  needs  that  can  still  be  met,  the  wrongs 
that  can  still  be  righted !     Remember  the  hands 
that  still  are  unwarmed,  the  feet  that  still  are 
weary,  the  hearts  that  still  are  sad!     Remcm- 


212  TIMES  OF 

ber  to  say  the  word  of  kindness  today!  Love 
the  more  deeply  because  death  has  a  deep 
shadow !  Lavish  upon  the  morning  what  the 
night  may  prevent  thee  from  giving! 
Strengthen,  strengthen  the  things  which  re- 
main! 


RETIREMENT  213 


"THE  SPHERE  WHERE  CALM  IS 
ESSENTIAL  " 

"Let  not  your  heart  he  troubled." — John  xiv.  i. 

TROUBLED  things  are  not  always  on 
that  account  unbeautiful.  Why  do 
we  find  more  beauty  in  the  sea  than 
in  a  pool?  Just  because  it  is  more  capable  of 
being  troubled.  Why  do  we  find  more  beauty 
in  a  strong  intellect  than  in  a  weak  one  ?  Just 
because  it  is  more  capable  of  being  troubled. 
The  unrest  of  a  material  object  and  the  un- 
rest of  a  human  intellect  is  the  sign  of  energy. 
But  the  unrest  of  a  heart  is  not.  The  unrest  of 
a  heart  is  the  sign  of  want  of  energy.  The 
sea  shows  its  power  in  a  storm;  the  intellect 
shows  its  power  in  a  difficulty;  but  the  heart 
only  shows  its  power  in  a  great  calm.  The 
heart's  power  is  the  heart's  fixedness.  The 
glory  of  a  ship  is  its  ability  to  sail;  but  the 
glory  of  a  heart  is  its  ability  to  lie  at  anchor — 


214  TIMES  OF 

to  be  moored  somewhere.  My  heart  has  no 
strength  when  it  is  saihng  in  search  of  har- 
bour; it  is  only  strong  when  it  is  cabled  to  the 
shore.  I  have  read  that  an  angel  came  down  to 
trouble  a  pool;  but  I  am  never  told  that  an 
angel  came  down  to  trouble  a  heart.  Many 
things  trouble  the  heart,  but  none  of  them  are 
angels.  It  needs  a  cloudless  trust,  a  sure  con- 
fidence, a  settled  calm.  It  needs  not  only  to 
love,  but  to  he  loved,  and  to  know  that  it  is 
loved.  Doubt  of  love's  reality  is  the  heart's 
paralysis;  despair  of  love's  reality  is  the  heart's 
death.  Whatever  else  be  tossed  upon  life's  sea, 
let  not  your  heart  be  troubled ! 

I  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  that  Thou  hast  been 
so  solicitous  for  the  peace  of  my  heart!  It 
proves  to  me  that  Thou  hast  prepared  a  place 
for  my  love.  Thou  wouldst  never  have  said, 
"Let  not  thy  heart  be  troubled!"  if  Thou 
hadst  no  place  for  my  love.  How  could  my 
heart  be  calm  if  love  were  a  finite  thing,  a  per- 
ishable thing!  If  Thou  hadst  no  mansion  for 
my  love,  it  were  mockery  to  say,  "  Let  not  your 
heart  be  troubled !  "  My  heart  cannot  be  quiet 
amid  autumn  leaves;  it  can  build  no  nest  in  the 


RETIREMENT  215 

cemetery.     Therefore    Thy    words    can    only 
mean,  ''  Put  away  your  fear  of  the  cemetery; 
your  heart    shall    be    satisfied — satisfied  ever- 
more! "    I  thank  Thee  for  that  promise!     My 
heart  cannot  vibrate  until  it  is  satisfied.    Other 
sides  of  my  being  vibrate  best  when  w?isatisfied. 
My  aspirations  come  from  my  mind's  hunger. 
My  fancy  is  a  cry  for  something  more  than  I 
have.     My  desire  for  knowledge  is  wakened 
by  what   I   do   not  know.      But  my   heart  is 
wakened  by  what  it  possesses.     Its  pulses  can- 
not beat  in  uncertainty.     It  cannot  work  till 
it  "  rests  from  its  labours.''     It  must  be  satis- 
fied early  in  the  morning— ere  it  goes  out  to 
the  toils  of  the  day.      I  bless  Thee  for  that 
morning  glow !     I  bless  Thee  that  before  the 
journey  Thou  hast  led  my  heart  to  the  foun- 
tain!    I  bless  Thee  that  its  vision  of  heaven 
has  preceded  its  walk  on  earth !     I  bless  Thee 
that  it  has  seen  eternity  ere  it  has  compassed 
time!     Only    the   7/ntroubled    heart    can    walk 
upon  the  troubled  sea;  therefore  I  praise  Thee 
for  this  antecedent  calm! 


2i6  TIMES  OF 


"  THE  INADEQUACY   OF   MERE 
SURROUNDINGS  " 

"  There  was  war  in  heaven;    the  dragon  fought,  and 
his  angels." — Revelation  xii.  7. 

AND  SO  an  environment  is  not  sufficient 
to  make  one  good  or  to  make  one 
happy!  We  hear  a  great  deal  in  our 
days  about  environment  being  everything. 
The  man  v^ho  wrote  the  Apocalypse  had  a 
different  idea,  and  he  expresses  it  very  forcibly. 
He  takes  the  finest  environment  that  ever 
was  conceived — heaven.  He  pictures  it  in  all 
its  beauty — with  its  pearly  streets  and  golden 
gates — with  its  rivers  clear  as  crystal,  and  its 
fountains  of  living  water,  and  its  trees  of 
luscious  fruit,  and  its  population  of  hoi}  an- 
gels. Into  this  paradise  he  introduces  a  second 
company — a  band  of  nn\\o\y  angels.  One 
would  think  this  new  band  had  every  chance, 
with  such  fine  scenery  and  such  godly  compan- 


RETIREMENT  217 

ions.  But  it  is  all  in  vain.  In  a  brief  space 
they  have  made  a  hell  of  heaven!  They  have 
found  their  surroundings  quite  intolerable!  It 
is  a  striking  picture!  They  have  actually  got 
into  heaven!  They  have  seen  the  environ- 
ment of  the  redeemed!  They  have  gazed  on 
the  white  robes!  They  have  caught  the  spray 
of  the  fountains!  They  have  basked  in  the 
light  that  has  no  setting!  And  yet  they  are  in 
misery,  in  unrest;  in  the  land  of  peace  they 
are  at  war! 

Art  thou  sure,  my  brother,  that  heaven 
would  to  thee  be  a  state  of  peace?  It  is  not 
enough  for  thee  that  there  be  a  crystal  river 
and  a  sparkling  fountain.  It  is  no  guarantee 
for  thy  peace  that  there  be  green  leaves  and 
rich  fruits.  There  are  states  of  mind  in  which 
beauty  itself  is  a  thing  on  which  we  make  war. 
If  heaven  were  promised  thee  to-day,  wouldst 
thou  write  down  thy  name  among  the  saved? 
To  do  so  might  be  premature.  The  dragon 
and  his  bad  angels  had  more  than  a  promise 
of  heaven;  they  had  actually  got  in.  But  they 
were  not  happy  in.  They  brought  their  misery 
in  with  them.     All  the  powers  of  nature  had 


2i8  TIMES  OF 

combined  to  make  them  glad;  all  the  powers  of 
mind  were  already  theirs;  but  their  hearts  were 
not  at  rest.  And  because  their  hearts  were  not 
at  rest,  their  heaven  was  not  at  rest;  the  sea 
of  glass  looked  stormy.  So  would  it  look  to 
thee  if  thou  hadst  not  rest  within.  In  vain 
the  glassy  sea  would  meet  thine  eye !  In  vain 
the  golden  harps  would  greet  thine  ear!  In 
vain  the  luscious  fruits  would  touch  thy  lips! 
In  vain  the  smile  of  Christ  would  seek  thy 
soul !  If  that  soul  were  in  unrest,  it  would  see 
in  heaven  nothing  but  war;  the  trees  w^ould 
whisper  it,  the  streams  would  murmur  it,  the 
birds  would  warble  it.  The  scene  through 
which  thou  travellest  is  half-painted  by  thyself; 
it  takes  the  colours  of  thine  own  heart.  If  thou 
bringst  lurid  colours  into  God's  dwelling  place, 
the  sacred  courts  will  catch  the  lurid  glow. 
Come  not  without  the  wedding  garment! 
Come  not  without  the  antecedent  joy!  Come 
not  without  a  song  learned  from  the  lessons 
of  earth!  Come  not  without  an  olive  branch 
from  the  waters  of  the  flood !  If  there  be  peace 
on  earth,  there  will  be  no  war  in  heaven! 


RETIREMENT  219 


"THE    SANCTIFYING    OF    WORLDLY 
GIFTS  " 

''  She  brake  the  box." — Mark  xiv.  3. 

IT  is  the  alabaster  box  of  ointment  that  is 
spoken  of.  I  have  often  asked  myself, 
zuhy  did  she  break  it?  I  can  see  why 
she  poured  out  all  the  ointment;  a  heart  so  de- 
voted could  never  have  given  to  Jesus  by 
halves.  But  why  destroy  the  costly  vessel  that 
held  it?  Surely  that  was  a  thing  she  might 
have  kept  for  herself?  No,  she  could  not.  She 
had  no  use  for  it  after  Christ  had  been  served. 
Love  counts  nothing  a  treasure  which  it  cannot 
spend  upon  its  object.  When  its  object  is 
anointed,  all  the  wealth  of  Ophir  is  super- 
fluous. This  woman  broke  the  costly  thing, 
not  because  she  was  indifferent  to  money,  but 
because  the  aim  of  her  money  was  achieved. 
That  aim  was  the  anointing  of  Jesus.  As  long 
as  Jesus  was  nut  anointed  she  strove  eagerly 


220  TIMES  OF 

for  this  earthly  treasure.  I  have  no  doubt 
she  spent  a  long  time  in  gathering  for  its  pur- 
chase. Perhaps  many  said,  "  What  a  miser 
she  is ! "  Measured  by  the  eye,  she  might 
seem  to  have  the  greed  of  gold.  But  her  gold 
only  glittered  in  the  light  of  Jesus.  It  was 
for  Him  she  gathered;  it  was  for  Him  she 
saved.  She  made  rich  for  His  anointing. 
When  the  anointing  was  complete,  the  gold 
lost  jts  glitter.  Wealth  ceased  to  have  an  ob- 
ject. She  gave  up  gathering;  she  gave  up 
saving.  She  had  no  interest  in  the  alabaster 
-when  it  had  served  its  purpose  for  Christ;  she 
brake  the  box. 

My  brother,  what  gives  thee  a  title  to  pray 
for  worldly  wealth  ?  It  is  thy  love  for  Christ — 
for  humanity.  I  would  bid  thee  aspire  to  the 
gifts  of  earth  if  I  were  sure  they  would  be 
sought  for  Jesus.  I  would  say,  ''  Keep  the 
alabaster  box  as  long  as  there  are  weary  feet  to 
be  anointed,  as  long  as  there  are  bruised  hearts 
to  be  refreshed !  "  All  such  weary  feet  are  His 
feet,  all  such  bruised  hearts  are  His  heart; 
•what  thou  doest  to  the  least  thou  doest  unto 
Him.     Gather  thy  gifts  for  Him!     The  man- 


RETIREMENT  221 

ger  still  holds  the  members  of  His  body;  the 
swaddling  bands  still  wrap  the  Christ  that 
is  to  be.  Are  there  none  from  the  east  or  from 
the  west  to  bring  gold  or  frankincense  or 
myrrh  ?  Are  there  none  to  sing  songs  of  Beth- 
lehem to  those  who  watch  by  night — to  cheer 
the  sleepless  invalid  in  the  ward  of  pain  ?  Are 
there  none  to  take  the  persecuted  child  into 
Egypt — to  find  a  house  of  refuge  for  those  re- 
jected by  the  world?  Are  there  none  to  pro- 
vide a  home  at  Nazareth  for  the  growth  of  the 
coming  Jesus?  Are  there  none  to  minister  to 
the  life  that  has  been  assailed  in  the  wilderness 
of  temptation  ?  Would  not  the  power  be  worth 
living  for,  worth  praying  for!  Live  for  such 
wealth,  pray  for  such  wealth!  Covet,  for 
Christ's  sake,  each  gift  of  body,  each  gift  of 
mind!  Tune  the  harp  for  Him;  train  the  voice 
for  Him;  twine  the  wreath  for  Him;  plant  the 
flower  for  Him;  weave  the  garment  for  Him; 
keep  thy  hold  on  the  world  for  Him!  Break 
not  the  alabaster  box  till  thou  hast  anointed 
Jesus! 


222  TIMES  OF 


"THE    UNUTTERED    COIN" 

*'  Though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and 
have  not  charity,  it  proHteth  mc  nothing. — i  Cor.  xiii.  3. 

WHAT  Paul  means  is,  that  no  mate- 
rial donation  is  equal  in  value  to  a 
wish  of  the  heart.  That  is  a  very 
startling  statement.  It  is  not  our  common 
view.  You  meet  a  ragged  beggar.  You  give 
him  a  coin.  As  he  departs,  a  sense  of  deep 
pity  rises  in  your  heart,  and  follows  him  down 
the  street.  You  feel  what  a  short  way  your 
coin  will  go  to  make  the  man  happy;  you 
breathe  the  prayer,  ''  God  help  the  poor  crea- 
ture !  "  Your  opinion  is  that  this  last  part  of 
the  transaction  does  not  count.  Paul  says  it  is 
in  God's  sight  the  part  which  counts  for  most. 
What  He  calls  your  charity  is  not  the  thing 
bestowed,  but  the  thing  you  would  like  to  be- 
stow. He  measures  your  munificence,  not  by 
your  gift,  but  by  your  sympathy.     I  have  read 


RETIREMENT  223 

in  the  Acts  that  He  set  up  in  heaven  a  monu- 
ment to  CorneHus  for  his  charitable  prayers. 
The  man  who  gets  the  grandest  monument  in 
heaven  is  the  man  whose  love  goes  beyond  his 
contributions.  However  big  his  contributions 
be,  his  love  must  go  beyond  them.  No  gift 
should  be  able  to  express  the  whole  heart;  if  it 
does,  the  heart  must  be  small.  At  the  moment 
w^hen  you  have  given  your  best,  your  love  cries, 
"It  is  nothing  to  what  I  should  like  to  do!  " 
And  the  Father  says,  ''This  nuuttered  coin 
is  the  measure  of  you;  to  this  unspoken  sym- 
pathy I  wil'l  raise  a  monument." 

Build  to  my  love,  O  Father,  build  to  my 
love!  Not  by  what  I  can  do  for  my  brother 
do  Thou  judge  me!  My  deeds  are  paltry  and 
poor.  What  can  the  pebble  do  that  I  cast  into 
the  sea  of  human  misery !  It  cannot  lessen  the 
depth  of  that  sea.  But  my  heart  is  bigger  than 
my  hand;  build  to  my  heart!  My  love  is 
stronger  than  my  leading;  build  to  my  love! 
The  Psalmist  prayed  that  Thou  wouidst  ac- 
cept all  his  burnt  ofiferings.  There  is  not  one 
of  mine  zi'orth  accepting!  But  Thou  hast 
promised    to    accept    the    iDiuttered    coin,    the 


224  TIMES  OF 

sympathy  that  cannot  speak.  I  have  seen  in 
Thy  heaven  a  monument  raised  to  the  munifi- 
cence of  a  pauper !  I  marvelled  at  the  paradox. 
I  could  not  understand  how  Thou  shouldst 
commemorate  the  munificence  of  one  who  lived 
in  a  garret  and  received  her  bread  from  the 
pity  of  the  crowd.  But  I  forgot  Thy  measure- 
ment of  munificence.  I  forgot  that  the  heart  of 
a  pauper  might  have  golden  wishes  for  hu- 
manity. I  forgot  that  it  is  to  the  heart's  gold 
the  heavenly  tablet  is  raised.  Help  me  to  re- 
member that  gold,  O  Lord!  When  I  feel  my 
earthly  nothingness,  when  I  deplore  my  human 
poverty,  help  me  to  remember  that  gold! 
When  I  lament  that  I  am  a  burden,  help  me  to 
remember  that  gold !  When  I  murmur  against 
my  uselessness,  when  I  bemoan  my  forced  in- 
action, when  I  spurn  the  invalid  couch  on 
which  I  am  compelled  to  lie,  help  me  to  remem- 
ber that  gold !  Let  me  see  the  riches  of  the  un- 
uttered  coin,  of  the  wwspoken  sympathy;  let 
me  behold  the  monument  Thou  hast  erected  to 
munificent  prayer!  Let  me  learn  that  the  high- 
est subscriber  is  the  donor  of  love! 


RETIREMENT  225 


"THE  EMANCIPATION  FROM 
SCHOOL " 

*' Having  abolished  the  lazv  of  commandments  con- 
tained in  ordinances." — Ephesians  ii.  15. 

WHEN  a  boy  finally  leaves  the  class- 
room the  methods  of  school  are  for 
him  abolished.  He  forgets  the  old 
rules  for  doing  things.  He  adds  up  his  sums 
in  the  ofifice  by  a  much  quicker  process  than 
that  used  in  the  class.  He  speaks  good  gram- 
mar without  remembering  one  rule  of  syntax. 
He  modulates  his  voice  without  recalling  one 
precept  of  the  elocution  master.  He  acts  with 
perfect  politeness  without  recollecting  a  sin- 
gle passage  from  the  book  of  etiquette.  So, 
too,  is  it  in  Christ's  world.  When  I  reach  the 
spirit  of  Christ  I  forget  the  old  rules  for  being 
good.  I  have  heard  a  child  say,  "  I  am  tired 
of  being  good !  "  I  do  not  wonder  at  such 
a  spcev:h.      Everything  committed  to  memory 


ii6  TIMES  OF 

by  rule  is  essentially  tiresome.  Goodness  is 
no  exception.  If  I  have  to  count  every  morn- 
ing how  many  kind  things  I  shall  do  for  my 
brother  during  the  day,  I  shall  be  very  weary 
ere  the  day  is  done.  But  when  there  comes 
to  me  that  one  thing  called  love,  I  cease  to  be 
careful  and  troubled  about  the  many  things. 
Love  gives  me  the  instinct  of  the  bee.  It  be- 
comes my  immediate  monitor.  It  abolishes 
rules.  It  guides  me  by  the  impulse  of  the  mo- 
ment. It  says:  Take  no  thought  what  you 
shall  speak.  Love  will  tdl  you  on  the  spot 
what  you  shall  speak.  You  will  be  like  the 
lily  of  the  field — growing  spontaneously,  like 
the  bird  of  the  air — singing  unconsciously. 
Your  goodness  will  be  innate,  and  therefore 
irrepressible.  You  will  have  no  need  to  com- 
mit the  ten  commandments;  grace  in  the  heart 
can  dispense  with  stores  in  the  memory;  Moses 
can  leave  the  mount  when  Christ  appears. 

O  Love,  Divine  Love,  set  me  free  from  the 
yoke  of  weariness !  Thy  yoke  is  easy  and  Thy 
burden  is  light!  Thou  canst  make  me  an  in- 
stinctive thinker,  a  spontaneous  worker,  an  ex- 
temporaneous speaker.     The  schoolmaster  can 


RETIREMENT  227 

lead  me   into  the  paths  of  rightonsness;   but 
•when  lie  leads  me  thither,  the  pastures  are  not 
green   and   the  waters  are  not  quiet.     Thou, 
O  Love,  canst  make  the  pastures  green ;  Thou, 
canst  make  the  waters  quiet!     With  Thee  I 
shall  run  and  not  be  weary;    with  Thee  I  shall 
walk  and  not  faint.     I  shall  not  count  how 
often  I  must  forgive  my  brother;  I  shall  for- 
give him  only  once— once  for  all.     I  shall  not 
weep  that  I  am  taxed  for  the  poor;  I  shall  deem 
it  a  privilege  to  pay.,    I  shall  not  congratulate 
myself  that  I    was    absent    from    a    scene  of 
misery;   I  shall   feel   bound  to  seek  out  that 
scene.      I  shall   not  ask  nervously  whether  a 
task  is  commanded  in  the  Bible;  if  it  is  com- 
manded   in    my  heart,  I  shall    anticipate  the 
Bible.     I  shall  be  dead  to  the  law  when  Thou 
Shalt  come.     I  shall  tear  up  the  old  rules  when 
Thou  Shalt  come.     I  shall  abolish  the  school 
lessons  when  Thou  shalt  come.     I  shall  enter 
life's  playground  when   Thou  shalt  come.     I 
shall  be  free  as  a  bird  when  Thou  shalt  come. 
Even  so  come,  Divine  Love,  come  quickly! 


228  TIMES  OF 


u  r^^^  T'EST  OF  SELF-EMPTYING  " 

"  In  that  day  there  shall  be  a  fountain  opened  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness." 

Zechariah  xiii.    I. 

A  FOUNTAIN  of  sacrifice  opened  in 
Jerusalem!  a  sacrificial  fountain  in 
the  midst  of  a  town,  in  the  centre  of 
the  world's  roar  and  traffic ! — that  is  a  strange 
thing.  Yes,  in  religious  life  it  is  a  hitherto 
unprecedented  thing;  it  will  only  be  found  in 
Christ  All  faiths  have  a  fountain — a  place 
of  sacrifice.  But  the  faith  of  Christ  alone  has 
a  fountain  in  Jerusalem — the  scene  of  temp- 
tation. Other  faiths  call  me  to  sacrifice  by 
calling  me  to  leave  the  world;  Christ  calls  me 
to  sacrifice  by  keeping  me  in  the  world.  My 
experience  in  Christ  is  no  longer  the  experience 
of  Abraham.  I  am  not  bidden  to  manifest  my 
sacrifice  by  seeking  the  solitary  place,  the 
lonely  hour.     I  am  not  bidden  to  get  up  early 


RETIREMENT  229 

in  the  morning  when  the  world  is  asleep,  to 
ascend  to  the  hill-top  where  my  brother  is  un- 
seen. No,  I  am  told  to  go  into  the  city  where 
my  brother  is.  I  am  told  that  if  I  am  seeking 
a  sacrificial  mission  I  shall  best  find  it  in  the 
street — where  the  people  gather,  where  the 
crowds  jostle,  where  man  competes  with  man. 
Not  where  the  forest  stretches,  not  where  the 
desert  lies,  am  I  now  to  thread  my  way.  The 
w^ood  of  the  true  Cross  is  not  there.  It  is 
where  man  dwells,  where  life  dwells,  where 
conflict  dwells.  Is  it  not  written  that  the  voice 
of  Christ  is  "  like  the  sound  of  many  waters  " ! 
And  truly  this  is  His  glory.  He  leads  us 
into  "  sounding  "  places — into  places  of  noise 
and  bustle.  He  brings  us  to  the  marriage  feast, 
to  the  marketplace,  to  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world,  to  the  buyers  and  sellers  in  life's  temple, 
to  the  jealousies  of  disciples,  to  the  friction 
with  opponents,  to  the  competing  interests  of 
all.  Our  course  is  there  because  His  Cross  is 
there. 

My  soul,  thine  altar  is  at  Jerusalem!  It  is 
easy  for  thee  to  feel  humble  in  the  vast  forest. 
Thuu  art  then  alone  with  tliy  Father.     Tliou 


230  TIMES  OF 

art  never  tempted  to  compete  with  thy  Father; 
thou  fallest  prostrate  before  Him.  But  amid 
the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  amid  the  con- 
course of  thy  fellow-men,  amid  the  rivalry  of 
those  who  seem  thine  inferiors — it  is  hard  to 
be  humble  then!  It  is  easy  to  bend  before  the 
stars;  it  is  easy  to  stoop  beneath  the  dome  of 
heaven.  But  to  stoop  to  thy  brother-man,  to 
feel  thy  nothingness  when  Lazarus  is  begging 
at  thy  gate — this  is  the  victory  over  pride — 
this,  this  is  humility !  To  be  poor  in  spirit  in 
the  presence  of  the  kingdoms  of  earth,  to  be 
meek  in  the  presence  of  the  crouching,  to  be 
merciful  to  faults  beneath  thy  nature,  to  make 
peace  when  thine  adversary  is  weak,  to  mourn 
thy  shortcomings  when  thou  art  the  magnet  of 
attraction  to  hundreds — this  is  the  blessing 
of  the  mount,  for  this  is  the  humility  of  the 
plain !  There  is  no  fountain  so  hard  to  bathe 
in  as  the  fountain  at  Jerusalem. 


RETIREMENT  231 


"  THE  LATEST  VOICE  OE  GOD  " 

"He  shall  not  speak   from   Himself." 

John  xvi.  13, 

IT  is  the  Holy  Spirit  that  is  here  spoken  of 
— the  ripest  fruit  of  the  reHgious  Hfe. 
I  take  the  meaning  of  the  passage  to  be 
that,  when  rehgion  in  the  soul  is  perfected, 
it  will  not  have  a  voice  separate  from  other 
things,  but  will  blend  with  all  the  voices  of 
nature.  In  the  early  stages  religion  is  apart 
from  other  things.  We  distinguish,  in  those 
days,  between  nature  and  grace,  secular  and 
sacred,  world  and  Church,  week-day  and  Sab- 
bath. The  voice  of  God  does  not  come  to  us 
through  the  events  of  the  common  hour;  it 
speaks  ''  from  itself " — from  its  own  lofty 
height  in  the  heavens.  To  hear  it  we  must 
come  out  from  the  madding  crowd  into  a  region 
of  purer  air  and  more  seraphic  rest.  So  is  it 
at  the  beginning.     But  our  Lord  says  there  is 


232  TIMES  OF 

a  time  coming  when  we  shall  think  differently. 
He  says  there  is  a  time  coming  when  the  voice 
of  God  shall  not  speak  ''  from  itself,"  but  shall 
send  its  message  through  secular  voices.  There 
is  a  time  coming  when  the  services  of  religion 
shall  not  be  limited  to  the  sanctuary,  when 
piety  shall  not  be  confined  to  prayer,  when 
psalmody  shall  not  be  monopolised  by  the 
psalter.  There  is  a  time  coming  when  the  voice 
of  the  Spirit  shall  call  from  the  windows  of 
man's  house.  It  shall  call  from  the  scenes  of 
nature;  it  shall  call  from  the  heights  of  poetry; 
it  shall  call  from  the  galleries  of  art.  It  shall 
speak  from  the  crowded  marketplace;  it  shall 
speak  from  the  seat  of  custom,  and  from  the 
wheels  of  traffic.  It  shall  sound  from  the 
haunts  of  pleasure;  from  the  dance  and  the 
music;  from  the  holiday  and  the  feast.  No 
spot  shall  be  without  an  altar,  no  scene  shall 
escape  a  sacrifice;  for  the  Cross  that  once  was 
planted  only  at  Jerusalem  shall  be  carried  to 
Cana  of  Galilee. 

Hasten  that  time,  O  Lord — the  time  when 
all  things  shall  carry  Thy  message !  Thy  mes- 
sage as  yet  can  only  come  to  me  from  Thyself; 


RETIREMENT  233 

I  can  only  hear  it  in  Thine  own  house.  It  is 
to  Thy  house  that  I  go  for  revelation.  It  is 
within  the  walls  of  Thy  temple  that  I  look 
for  the  rending  of  the  veil.  I  think  of  the 
world's  voices  as  drowning  Thy  voice;  it  never 
occurs  to  me  that  they  may  be  Thy  telegrams. 
Tomorrow  I  shall  know  it — when  Thy  spirit 
shall  come.  Tomorrow  I  shall  learn  a  new 
experience;  the  world  itself  shall  reveal  Thee. 
Thou  shalt  speak  to  me  in  voices  not  Thine 
own — voices  which  I  used  to  call  secular. 
Thou  shalt  speak  to  me  in  babbling  brook  and 
murmuring  stream.  I  shall  hear  Thee  in  sigh- 
ing wind  and  plashing  fountain.  I  shall  catch 
the  tread  of  Thy  feet  in  the  haunts  of  the 
scientist;  in  what  men  call  evolution  I  shall 
hear  Thee  climbing  the  hill.  On  every  mount 
of  aspiration  I  shall  listen  to  Thy  preaching; 
on  every  pinnacle  of  temptation  I  shall  listen 
to  Thy  warning;  in  every  valley  of  humiliation 
I  shall  listen  to  Thy  Garden  prayer.  In  all 
breaking  of  bread  I  shall  see  Thy  hand.  In 
all  healing  of  pain  I  shall  feel  Thy  touch.  In 
all  stilling  of  passion  I  shall  read  Thy  mandate. 
In  all  marriage  feasts  I   shall  seek  Thy  j)res- 


234  TIMES  OF 

ence.  In  all  dreams  of  youth  I  shall  behold 
Thy  dove  descending.  In  all  Magdalene 
homes  I  shall  hear  Thy  words  of  pardon.  In 
all  children's  hospitals  I  shall  discern  Thine 
outstretched  arms.  Thy  voice  shall  be  the 
world's  voice  in  the  sweet  by  and  by! 


RETIREMENT  235 


"THE  PLACE  FOR  RELIGIOUS 
RESEARCH  " 

"Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God." 

Job  xi.  7. 

NO;  and  why?  Because  I  never  begin 
to  search  for  Him  until  I  have  found 
Him;  God  alone  can  create  the  search 
for  God.  That  is  the  great  difference  between 
things  material  and  things  spiritual.  In 
material  things  the  search  precedes  the  finding; 
in  spiritual  things  the  finding  precedes  the 
search.  When  a  man  goes  out  to  seek  for 
gold  you  may  infer  that  he  is  materially  poor, 
but  when  a  man  goes  out  to  seek  for  God  you 
may  conclude  that  he  is  spiritually  rich.  In 
the  case  of  the  gold  we  see  the  shadow  before 
we  touch  the  substance;  in  our  experience  of 
God  we  first  touch  the  substance  and  then  see 
the  shadow.  When  a  child  stretches  out  its 
hand  and  cries    for    the    moon   it   is  seeking 


236  TIMES  OF 

sometliing  which  it  will  never  find;  but  when  a 
man  stretches  out  his  hand  and  cries  for  holi- 
ness he  is  seeking  something  which  he  has 
found  already.  No  man  can  pray  for  the 
Divine  Spirit  except  by  the  voice  of  that  Spirit. 
Why  is  our  Father  so  eager  that  we  should 
pray  for  the  kingdom?  Is  it  because  our 
prayer  for  goodness  will  make  us  good?  No, 
it  is  because  our  prayer  for  goodness  proves 
us  to  be  good  already.  When  did  Abraham 
begin  to  search  for  the  land  of  Canaan  ?  When 
he  got  into  it.  He  wandered  up  and  down  seek- 
ing the  promised  country;  and  he  was  there  all 
the  time,  folded  in  her  bosom.  So  is  it  with 
us.  We  long  for  Canaan  when  we  stand  in 
Canaan.  We  cry  for  love  when  we  have 
learned  love.  We  pray  for  purity  when  we 
have  tasted  purity.  We  feel  our  distance  from 
God  when  God  is  at  the  door. 

My  brother,  have  you  considered  these 
words,  "  Behold,  He  cometh  with  clouds !  " 
It  is  not  "  in  clouds."  The  idea  is  that  He  is 
to  bring  the  clouds  K'ifh  Him — that  His  com- 
ing is  to  create  the  sense  of  distance  from  Him, 
the  search  for  Him.     It  was  when  the  Samari- 


RETIREMENT  2'^7 

tan  woman  met  Jesus  that  she  first  began  her 
questionings.  I  do  not  think  she  had  ever  be- 
fore troubled  herself  with  matters  theological. 
There  is  a  mist  which  is  the  sign,  not  of  rain, 
but  of  heat;  it  is  the  morning  messenger  of  a 
coming  day  of  brightness.  So  is  it  with  the 
intellectual  mists  of  your  spirit;  they  mean 
heat.  Yesterday,  you  were  indifferent;  you 
neither  believed  nor  disbelieved — you  never 
thought  of  the  matter.  Today,  you  begin  to 
doubt,  to  search,  to  enquire;  clouds  and  dark- 
ness are  to  you  round  about  Him.  Some  will 
tell  you  that  your  today  is  worse  than  your 
yesterday.  They  are  wrong;  do  not  believe 
them.  It  is  heat  that  makes  your  mist;  it  is 
light  that  makes  your  cloud.  "  Where  is  He 
that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews  ?  "  asked  the 
scientists  of  olden  times;  but  why?  Because 
they  had  seen  the  star.  They  sought  Christ 
because  His  light  had  come.  Even  so  shall  it 
be  with  you.  You  will  journey  to  Jerusalem 
when  you  have  seen  the  star;  you  will  seek  the 
manger  when  you  have  heard  the  songs  of 
Bethlehem.  Your  search  will  follow  your 
finding.     Be  not  cast  down  that,  in  the  after- 


^38  TIMES  OF 

noon  of  the  day,  you  are  only  a  seeker  for  God; 
for  the  treasure  you  seek  in  the  field  is  already 
in  the  dwelling,  and  the  spade  with  which  you 
dig  is  made  of  the  gold  you  desire. 


RETIREMENT 


239 


I 


"THE  SECRET  OF  CHRISTIAN 
STOOPING  " 

"  Despising  the  shame." — Hebrews  xii.  2. 

N  well-known  lines  Dr.  Watts  declares 
that  the  Cross  of  Christ  leads  to  hu- 
mility. 

"  When  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross 
On  which  the  Prince  of  Glory  died. 
My  richest  gain  I  count  but  loss, 
I  pour  contempt  on  all  my  pride," 


Yet  I  am  not  sure  that  he  has  given  the  exact 
account  of  the  matter.  It  is  quite  true  that  the 
Cross  of  Christ  makes  a  man  stoop  to  menial 
things;  but  why?  Simply  because  he  is  no 
longer  ashamed  of  them.  It  is  not  that  he  has 
less  sense  of  dignity;  it  is  rather  because  he 
feels  that  the  stooping  to  menial  things  has 
ceased  to  take  down  his  dignity.  Many  a  boy 
demurs  to  carry  a  bag  through  a  fashionable 
locality;   a  district  nurse  will  bear  it  anywhere. 


240  TIMES  OF 

Is  that  because  the  district  nurse  is  more  hum- 
ble than  the  boy?  Assuredly  not.  It  is 
because  the  thing  which  makes  the  boy  feel 
ashamed  makes  her  feel  more  dignified.  I 
would  say  that  the  love  of  Christ  does  not  make 
us  feel  more  humble,  but  makes  us  feel 
ashamed  of  fewer  things;  it  reduces  the  sources 
of  our  humility.  It  enables  me  to  walk  erect 
through  scenes  where  yesterday  I  should  have 
crept  stealthily.  It  is  not  on  my  conscious 
dignity  I  pour  contempt;  it  is  on  my  false 
shame.  I  am  ever  proud  of  my  love;  but  that 
very  pride  makes  me  deem  nothing  menial. 
The  more  servile  be  the  work  for  my  Christ, 
the  prouder  I  am  to  do  it.  I  feel  exalted  in 
proportion  as  my  service  bends  me.  I  endure 
the  cross  because  I  despise  the  shame. 

I  am  not  ashamed  of  Thy  gospel,  O  Christ! 
It  has  not  killed  my  sense  of  dignity;  I  am 
proud  to  minister  to  Thee.  Not  because  I  feel 
my  nothingness  do  I  stoop  to  work  which  men 
call  menial;  it  is  because  I  despise  the  shame. 
My  love  has  turned  the  shame  into  glory.  I  feel, 
like  Paul,  that  "  love  maketh  not  ashamed  " 
— removes  the  sense  of  shame.     It  is  not  de- 


RETIREMENT  241 

pression  that  drives  me  into  servile  work;  it 
is  elation,  it  is  upliftedness.  I  love  Thee — I 
love  Thee! — I  love  Thee!  and  I  want  to  do 
something  for  Thee!  It  is  not  the  crouching, 
but  the  swelling,  of  my  heart  that  sends  me 
down  into  the  valley.  My  heart's  ambition  is 
to  descend;  my  love's  aspiration  is  to  go  down. 
I  would  be  the  servant  of  the  slave  for  Thee. 
I  would  rather  walk  with  Thee  through  the 
mire  than  without  Thee  through  bowers  of 
roses.  I  should  feel  more  regal  with  garments 
soiled  for  Thee  than  in  robes  whose  selfish- 
ness has  kept  them  from  a  stain.  It  is  my 
pride  that  cries  out  for  the  valley.  It  is  my 
joy  that  makes  me  serve.  It  is  my  buoyancy 
that  bears  the  burden.  It  is  the  singing  of  my 
heart  that  makes  me  forget  the  toil.  It  is  not 
the  cringing  soul  that  can  tread  Thy  lowly  way ! 


242  TIMES  OF 


"THE   MARRIAGE   OF   PRAYER   AND 
ALMSGIVING  " 

"  Thy   prayers   and   thine   alms   are   come   up   for  a 
memorial  before  God." — Acts  x.  4. 


iif   I   1  HY  prayers  and  thine  alms."     What 
I  a  singular  combination!     Are  not 

these  two  contrary  things!  Is  not 
prayer  a  desire  to  get;  is  not  the  offer  of  alms 
a  desire  to  give!  How  can  a  man  receive  a 
monument  for  opposing  qualities!  My 
brother,  these  are  not  opposing  qualities.  All 
prayer  must  be  a  giving  of  something.  You 
are  not  justified  in  making  it  a  mere  desire  to 
get.  When  you  are  about  to  ask  anything  of 
your  Father,  you  ought  to  pause  for  a  moment. 
Before  making  a  request  to  your  Father,  you 
should  give  your  sympathy  to  your  fellow-man ; 
you  should  say — "  How  would  the  granting  of 
this  to  me  affect  him?  Let  me  remember  his 
wants  ere  I  satisfy  my  own!  "     That  is  what  I 


RETIREMENT 


243 


understand  our  Lord  to  mean  by  the  command 
— "  When  thou  bringest  thine  offering  to  the 
altar  and  thou  rememberest  that  thy  brother 
hath  aught  against  thee,  leave  thine  offering 
unsurrendered;  first  be  reconciled  to  thy 
brother!"  When  you  come  to  the  altar  of 
worship  to  offer  up  your  prayer,  ask  yourself 
first  of  all  whether  the  granting  of  your  wish 
would  be  against  the  interest  of  your  neigh- 
bour; and  if  your  heart  says  ''  Yes,"  do  not 
present  that  prayer  to-day.  Leave  it  on  the 
steps  of  the  altar.  Go  back  to  secular  life  again. 
Seek  a  meeting  with  your  neighbour.  Adjust 
your  respective  claims.  Try  if  his  interest  can 
be  made  compatible  with  yours.  If  it  can,  you 
may  go  forward  to  the  altar  once  more.  Your 
prayer  will  then  be  unsullied,  pure.  There  will 
be  nothing  mean  in  it,  nothing  sordid,  nothing 
self-seeking.  It  will  be  such  a  prayer  as  you 
can  present  without  shame  in  the  presence  of 
the  ministrant  angels,  in  the  presence  of  re- 
deeming Love. 

O  Thou  Divine  Love,  tune  my  prayers  to 
the  songs  of  Thy  heart!  Let  my  first  thought 
in  the  hour  of  prayer  be,  not  a  getting,  but  a 


244  TIMES  OF 

giving !  Before  I  say  "  The  Lord  will  provide 
for  mc  "  let  me  seek  to  provide  for  my  brother ! 
Let  me  ask  nothing  in  my  own  name — noth- 
ing which  does  not  include  my  fellow-man !  On 
the  threshold  to  every  prayer  teach  me  to  say 
"Our  Father!"  Let  all  my  petitions  be  for 
two — myself  and  humanity!  Let  me  ask,  not 
*'  my  daily  bread,"  but  ''  our  daily  bread  "  ! 
If  my  district  is  in  drought,  let  me  not  ask  uni- 
versal rain !  Let  me  pause  to  consider  whether 
my  want  is  felt  by  other  districts;  it  may  be 
that  elsewhere  the  soil  is  crying  for  the  sun! 
Let  my  almsgiving  precede  my  prayer!  Ere 
looking  at  my  own  parched  land,  let  me  re- 
member my  brother's  sodden  field!  Let  me 
hear  the  voice  of  his  blood  crying  from  the 
flooded  ground !  Make  my  prayer  from  begin- 
ning to  end  a  duet!  Let  it  ever  have  two 
voices — my  brother's  and  mine!  Let  its  first 
note  be  "Our  Father;"  let  its  last  be  ''De- 
liver us  from  evil !  "  Thy  heart  will  be  glad 
when  Thou  hearest  the  harmonious  music — 
when  the  prayer  and  the  alms  go  up  together. 


RETIREMENT  945 


"  THE  MARRIAGE  OF  PRAYER  AND 
JOY" 

*'  Rejoice  evermore;  pray  without  ceasing." 

I  Thessalonians  v.  i6.  17. 

JOY  and  prayer — these  are  strange  allies — 
strange  elements  for  perpetual  union. 
To  rejoice  evermore  and  to  pray  without 
ceasing — ^are  not  these  contradictory  acts  ?  Are 
not  joy  and  prayer  opposite  things?  Is  not 
joy  a  sense  of  fulness;  is  not  prayer  a  sense  of 
want?  How  can  these  both  go  on  for  ever? 
Must  not  the  advent  of  perfect  joy  be  the  death 
of  prayer?  No,  not  if  you  speak  of  Christ's 
joy.  Christ's  joy  is  love — fulness  of  love. 
But  what  is  fulness  of  love  but  fulness  of 
want?  What  is  my  love  for  you  but  my  want 
of  you,  my  need  of  you,  my  insufficiency  with.- 
out  you!  All  love  is  a  great  prayer.  Its  very 
joy  is  the  joy  of  insufficiency.  Love  is  the  cry 
of  my  soul  for  a  companion  soul.     Love  is  the 


246  TIMES  OF 

declaration  that  I  am  unsatisfied  with  myself. 
I  do  not  say  J/^satisfied;  I  need  not  be  that. 
What  I  feel  is  a  sense  of  incompleteness.  The 
creation  of  my  heart  is  unfinished,  and  I  crave 
its  finishing.  When  I  clasp  the  hand  of  a 
friend  I  experience  a  joy ;  but  the  joy  is  also  a 
want — a  pain.  In  that  moment  I  am  coming 
out  from  myself,  abandoning  myself.  I  am 
confessing  that  to  dwell  within  myself  is  to  be 
in  a  land  of  famine,  to  feed  upon  the  husks. 
The  deeper  ray  love  is,  the  deeper  is  my  sense 
of  want,  my  need  of  another.  I  am  least  con- 
tent with  myself  when  my  joy  is  most  full. 

Let  then,  O  Lord,  my  joy  and  my  prayer  be 
knit  in  eternal  union;  may  both  be  among  life's 
unceasing  things !  May  I  "  rejoice  evermore," 
and  yet  "  pray  without  ceasing;  "  may  nothing 
ever  break  the  marriage  tie !  I  should  not  like 
to  have  an  eternal  joy  which  excluded  eternal 
prayer.  I  thank  Thee  that  Thou  hast  provided 
an  eternal  joy  which  is  compatible  with  eternal 
prayer.  Let  me  enter  into  this  joy  of  my  Lord! 
Give  me  that  Divine  joy  called  love — that  joy 
which  is  a  hunger  of  the  heart.  T  have  read 
that  on  the  great  day  of  the  world's  feast  Thou 


RETIREMENT 


147 


didst  stand  in  the  midst  and  cry,  ''I  thirst!'* 
That  was  both  Thy  fulness  and  Thy  want.  The 
fulness  of  love  is  the  heart's  deepest  hunger. 
Thine  was  the  fulness  of  love;  Thine  was  the 
heart's  deepest  hunger;  Thy  joy  made  Thy 
prayer.  Let  me  enter  into  Thy  joy;  let  me 
enter  into  Thy  prayer!  When  my  joy  shall  be 
Divine,  my  want  shall  be  Divine  too.  I  shall 
thirst  most  when  I  reach  Thy  glory,  for  Thy 
glory  is  love.  I  shall  hunger  most  when  I  reach 
Thy  fulness,  for  Thy  fulness  is  love.  I  shall 
pray  most  when  I  reach  Thy  joy,  for  Thy  joy 
is  love.  I  shall  be  least  self-satisfied  when  I 
am  nearest  to  Thy  sun,  for  Thy  sun  is  love. 
When  I  can  rejoice  for  evermore  I  shall  pray 
without  ceasing. 


248  TIMES  OF 


"  CHRISTIAN  RESIGNATION  " 

"I  was  dumb,  I  opened  not  my  mouth;   because  Thou 
didst  it.*' — Psalm  xxxix.  9. 


Ct"T  WAS  dumb  because  Thou  didst  it" — 
I  because  the  calamity  was  sent  by 
Infinite  Love.  And  so  Christian  res- 
ignation is  not  despair  but  hope!  I  have  been 
all  wrong  in  my  view  of  it !  I  thought  it  was 
prostration;  I  see  it  is  energy.  I  thought  it 
was  the  heart  sleeping;  I  see  it  is  the  heart  on 
the  wing.  I  see  that  the  glory  of  the  Psalm- 
ist's resignation  is  not  his  speechlessness;  it  is 
the  reason  for  his  speechlessness.  "  I  opened 
not  my  mouth  because  Thou  didst  it.''  It 
is  a  very  easy  thing  to  be  dumb  in  the  ex- 
perience of  suffering;  I  think  it  is  the  easiest 
of  all  things.  The  most  common  effect  of  grief 
is  a  paralysing  one.  But  Christian  resignation 
is  the  absence  of  paralysis.  It  comes  not  from 
loss  of  power,  but  from  the  infliix  of  power. 


RETIREMENT  249 

It  is  not  the  submission  to  a  cross;  it  is  the 
submission  to  a  crown.  It  is  not  the  wearing 
of  a  thorn;  it  is  the  wearing  of  a  flower.  It 
is  not  the  crushing  of  a  will;  it  is  the  birth  of  a 
fresh  w^illingness.  Not  because  I  am  a  poor 
creature  does  Christ  bid  me  be  resigned;  it  is 
because  I  am  a  rich  creature,  with  the  hope  of 
treasures  untold.  "  Because  Thou  didst  it " 
— because  the  shadow  is  a  bit  of  the  sun,  be- 
cause the  seeming  discord  is  the  weaving  of  a 
melody,  because  the  calamity  is  the  disguise  of 
love! 

Lord,  teach  me  the  meaning  of  a  resigned 
heart !  Men  tell  me  it  means  ''  to  give  up 
human  love."  Teach  me  that  it  comes  through 
the  stimulus  to  human  love !  Why  dost  Thou 
bid  me  dry  my  tears?  Is  it  the  command  to 
accept  my  pain  ?  No,  it  is  the  command  to  re- 
ject it,  to  repudiate  it,  to  disbelieve  in  it.  It 
is  the  command  to  believe  that,  seen  from  other 
skies,  my  calamity  wears  another  colour,  a 
brighter  colour.  Be  mine  that  resignation,  O 
Lord!  I  would  not  be  dumb  through  despair, 
as  the  Buddhist  is.  I  would  not  he  dumb 
throut^h  aiiathv,  as  the  Stoic  it.     I  would  not 


Q50  TIMES  OF 

be  dumb  through  satiety,  as  the  WorldHng  is. 
I  would  not  be  dumb  through  witheredness,  as 
the  Cynic  is.  I  would  not  be  dumb  by  having 
my  heart  emptied  in  any  form.  I  would  be 
dumb  by  having  my  heart  quickened,  deepened. 
Many  can  say  to  my  soul,  ''  Peace,  be  still !  " 
but  Thou  alone  canst  say  it  without  killing 
the  life.  I  refuse  to  be  resigned  except  througH 
Thee.  I  will  not  be  content  to  suffer  wrong; 
but  I  will  be  content  to  wait  for  the  right.  I 
will  bear  if  ThoiL  didst  it.  I  will  not  bear  if 
Pilate  did  it,  if  Herod  did  it,  if  Caiaphas  did  it, 
if  chance  or  accident  or  fortune  did  it.  I  yield, 
not  to  loss,  but  to  love.  I  surrender,  not  to 
despair,  but  to  hope.  I  bend,  not  to  the  yes- 
terday, but  to  the  morrow.  I  still  the  tempest 
of  my  heart,  not  in  the  presence  of  the  waters, 
but  in  the  presence  of  the  rainbow.  I  cease  to 
cry,  not  because  I  accept  the  night,  but  because 
I  see  the  star.  I  fold  my  hands  to  no  calamity, 
but  to  the  wings  of  the  coming  morning.  If 
my  heart  is  stayed,  it  is  stayed  only  in  Theel 


RETIREMENT  25 


"  PENALTY  AND  PARDON  " 

"  Esau  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he  sought 
it  carefully  with  tears." — Hebrews  xii.  17. 
"  I  go  to  prepare  a  place." — John  xiv.  2. 

IT  is  not  said  that  Esau  ''  found  no  repent- 
ance," but  that  he  '''found  no  place  for  re- 
pentance." His  repentance  was  abund- 
antly manifest,  and  with  it  his  forgiveness. 
But  the  idea  is  that  repentance  did  not  give  him 
back  his  lost  place  in  the  community  of  men. 
You  may  be  forgiven  by  heaven  without  being 
reinstated  by  earth.  David  got  his  punishment 
after  he  had  been  pardoned.  There  is  a  com- 
fort in  that  story.  When  you  are  overtaken  by 
just  penalty  you  attribute  it  to  the  anger  of 
heaven.  You  need  not  do  so;  you  may  have 
been  already  forgiven.  When  a  man  seeks  par- 
don "  carefully  and  with  tears,"  he  will  get  it 
instantaneously;  there  is  a  place  prepared  for 
the  penitent  in    the    mansions    of    the  Father. 


252  TIMES  OF 

But  there  may  not  be  a  place  ready  for  him  in 
the  mansions  of  nature.  The  prodigal  has  spent 
his  substance  in  riotous  living.  He  has  heard 
his  Father's  voice,  and  he  has  come  home. 
But  that  will  not  bring  back  the  lost  substance. 
Doubtless  there  is  a  ring  and  a  robe  awaiting 
him — the  best  ring  and  the  best  robe.  But  it 
is  not  the  old  ring  and  the  old  robe.  He  has 
shattered  his  first  constitution.  God  will  by 
and  by  give  him  a  new  constitution,  but  it  will 
not  be  the  former  one.  Meantime  he  comes  in 
dilapidation,  in  squalor,  in  want.  It  is  an 
emaciated  man  that  listens  to  the  music  and  the 
dancing.  He  has  got  his  welcome,  but  as  yet 
he  has  got  nothing  more.  The  songs  are  in 
his  ear,  but  the  thorn  is  in  his  flesh.  His  Father 
has  embraced  and  kissed  him,  but  the  fruit 
of  his  sowing  remains. 

I  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  for  Thy  revelation  of 
the  prodigal !  It  tells  me  that  Thy  welcome 
may  precede  my  peace.  Help  me  to  remember 
it  in  my  times  of  c?/.ypeace!  When,  in  answer 
to  my  cry  for  pardon,  there  seems  to  come  only 
the  just  reward  of  deeds  ill-done,  help  me  to 
remember  that  the  prodigal's  welcome  came  be- 


RETIREMENT 


^S2 


fore  his  glory !  When  I  have  lost  the  old  place 
among  men,  when  I  am  clothed  in  rctril)utive 
rags,  when  I  am  bearing  the  harvest  of  my  own 
tares,  help  me  to  remember  that  the  prodigal 
was  embraced  ere  he  was  beautified!  I  bless 
Thee  for  that  revelation,  O  my  Father !  I  bless 
Thee  that  my  pardon  waits  not  for  my  peace! 
I  bless  Thee  that  Thy  forgiveness  lingers  not! 
I  bless  Thee  that  Thy  mercy  is  independent  of 
nature's  mercy!  The  law  takes  its  course  on 
the  penitent  thief  spite  of  his  penitence;  but 
Thy  love  waits  not  for  the  course  of  the  lazv. 
The  cross  crucifies  him,  but  Thy  Christ  first 
crowns  him;  earth's  door  is  closed,  but  Thy 
gate  first  opens;  life's  birthright  is  lost,  but 
Thy  Kingdom  first  comes;  and  ere  the  human 
place  has  known  him  no  more  Thou  hast  pre- 
pared for  him  a  place  in  Paradise! 


254  TIMES  OF 


"THE    CATHOLICITY    OF    CHRIST'S 
CRADLE " 

"  Nations  shall  come  to  Thy  light,  and  kings  to  the 
brightness  of  Thy  rising." — Isaiah  Ix.  3. 

THE  birth  of  Christ  was  the  meeting  of 
three  continents — Europe,  Asia,  Af- 
rica. Europe  appeared  in  Herod; 
he  represented  the  power  of  Rome.  Asia  ap- 
peared in  the  ''wise  men  of  the  East;"  they 
represented  the  wisdom  of  Persia.  Africa  ap- 
peared in  the  escape  of  the  infant  Jesus;  it  was 
a  flight  into  Israel's  old  home — the  land  of 
Egypt.  Each  brought  a  different  atmosphere 
to  the  Cradle  of  Bethlehem.  Rome  brought  the 
life  of  the  West — the  active,  practical,  working 
life.  Persia  brought  the  life  of  the  East — 
the  deep,  meditative,  intellectual  life.  Egypt 
brought  the  shadows  of  a  life  beyond  the  earth 
— the  attempt  to  read  the  great  secret  of  death. 
And  the  Christmas  Child  has  met  these  three 


RETIREMENT  2S5 

human  cravings — the  cry  for  work,  the 
cry  for  knowledge,  the  cry  for  a  life  beyond. 
He  has  met  Rome  by  the  offer  of  a  new  field  for 
human  energy.  He  has  met  Persia  by  the  open- 
ing of  a  new  gate  of  knowledge.  He  has  met 
Egypt  by  the  revealing  of  a  Hfe  beyond  death. 
The  Child-Jesus  has  given  more  than  He  got. 
It  is  He  that  has  brought  the  gold  and  frankin- 
cense and  myrrh!  Three  things  are  repre- 
sented by  the  nations  round  His  cradle — body, 
mind,  spirit — Rome,  Persia,  Egypt.  And  He 
has  met  them  all.  He  has  brought  what  Rome 
loved — new  strength  to  the  body,  new  power 
of  physical  endurance.  He  has  brought  what 
Persia  loved — fresh  fields  of  investigation,  fresh 
liberty  to  explore.  He  has  brought  what  Egypt 
loved — the  prospect  of  a  deathless  pyramid,  the 
hope  for  an  immortal  thing. 

All  these  wants  are  mine,  O  Christ;  in  Thee 
I  have  become  one  with  all  nations!  To  Thy 
cradle  I  come  with  the  nations.  I  bring  the 
Roman's  craving  for  the  body.  I  bring  the 
Persian's  craving  for  the  treasures  of  the  mind. 
I  bring  the  Egyptian's  craving  for  a  h(Uise  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.     Give 


256  TIMES  OF 

my  soul  the  things  Thou  hast  brought  to  the 
nations !  Give  me  the  strength  Rome  sought — 
the  strength  of  Thy  Gethsemane !  Give  me  the 
Hght  Persia  sought — the  knowledge  of  Him 
who  is  the  source  of  all  knowledge!  Give  me 
the  vision  Egypt  sought — the  power  to  see  a 
thing  which  will  not  pass  away!  Then  will 
this  be  to  me  a  happy  Christmas.  Then  will 
this  Christmas  make  me  a  complete  man — a 
man  all  round.  Then  will  three  worlds  be  mine 
— the  material,  the  mental,  the  eternal.  I  shall 
be  more  athletic  than  the  Roman  when  I  have 
Thy  resurrection  body.  I  shall  be  more  stu- 
dious than  the  Persian  when  I  obtain  Thy  view 
from  the  Mount.  I  shall  be  more  devout  than 
the  Egyptian  when  I  see  Thine  Immortal  Life 
unveiled  on  Olivet.  Be  these  Thy  Christmas 
gifts  to  me,  O  Lord;  so  shall  I  learn  the  bright- 
ness of  Thy  rising  I 


RETIREMENT  257 


"THE    PERMANENT    THING" 

"He  hath  set  eternity  in  their  heart." 

Eccl.  Hi.  II  (R.  V.) 

THERE  is  something  in  us  which  is  in- 
dependent of  the  years.  It  is  eternal 
— changeless.^  It  does  not  grow;  it 
does  not  fade;  it  is  the  same  yesterday  and  to- 
day and  for  ever.  We  speak  much  of  the 
changes  which  the  years  bring.  And  truly  they 
bring  changes  to  many  things.  They  change 
manners,  customs,  modes  of  Hfe.  The  culture 
of  the  modern  Briton  is  quite  different  from  the 
culture  of  the  ancient  Jew.  If  the  Judges  of 
old  Israel  were  to  awake  in  modern  London, 
they  would  find  an  intellectual  world  which 
they  would  not  recognise.  But  they  would  also 
find  a  world  which  they  zvould  recognise. 
There  is  a  region  which  the  years  touch  not, 
which  the  centuries  change  not;  it  is  the  heart; 
God  has  set  eternity  there.     The  instincts  of 


258  TIMES  OF 

the  heart  are  timeless.  You  enter  a  modern 
drawing-room  to  bid  a  friend  good-bye,  and 
your  friend  insists  on  going  with  you.  You 
deem  it  a  beautiful  tribute  of  love;  and  so  it  is. 
But  I  can  take  you  back  three  millenniums  to  an 
age,  comparatively  barbarous,  and  there  I  can 
show  you  the  very  same  tribute.  I  can  show 
you  in  the  land  of  the  Judges  of  Israel  one 
woman  bidding  another  good-bye,  and  that 
other  refusing  to  accept  her  farewell,  ''  where 
thou  goest  I  will  go,  and  where  thou  dwellest 
I  will  dwell ;  thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and 
thy  God  my  God."  There  has  been  in  all  these 
three  millenniums  no  improvement  in  love. 
There  are  changes  in  the  leaf,  changes  in  the 
fashion,  changes  in  the  theory;  but  God  has  set 
eternity  in  the  heart. 

Speak  not,  my  soul,  of  the  things  that  vanish 
with  the  years!  There  are  things  that  vanish; 
but  there  is  something  which  remains;  and  the 
thing  which  remains  is  the  greatest  thing. 
Why  rests  thine  eye  ever  on  the  blank  places, 
the  vacant  places!  Why  art  thou  ever  joining 
in  the  dirge  of  the  hymnist,  ''  Change  and  de- 
cay in  all  around  I  see  " !     It  may  be  ''  in  all 


RETIREMENT  259 

around;  "    but  it  is  not  "  in  all  within."    The 
marks  of  time  may  be  on  the  leaf;  but  eternity 
is  in  thy  heart.     Thy  heart  is  neither  older  nor 
younger  than  it    was    in    the    primitive  days. 
Thy  love  is  like  a  rock  in  the  sea  of  time;  the 
waters  have  not  washed  it  away.     Keep  thine 
eye  on  the  rock,  O  my  soul,  for  that  rock  is 
Christ !    Wring  not  thy  hands  over  the  desolat- 
ing wave;  love  laughs  at  the  wave!     Love  is 
independent  of  the  years;  it  makes  equal  four- 
score   and    seventeen.      Love    can    retain    its 
romance  in  old  age.     Love  can  be  a  primrose 
amid  the  withered  autumn  flowers.     Love  can 
sing  in  the  night  the  joys  of  morning.     Love 
can  plant  the  spring  at  the  gates  of  December. 
Love  can  put  a  child  in  the  midst  of  the  tem- 
ple's grey  sages.     Dry  the  tears  thou  hast  shed 
over  thy  fleetingness,  for  thou  hast  eternity  in 
thy  heart! 


26o  TIMES  OF 


"  ALONE  WITH  CHRIST  " 

"And  they  which  heard  it  went  out  one  by  one;  and 
Jesus  zvas  left  alone,  and  the  woman  standing  in  the 
midst." — John  viii.  9. 

THIS  is  the  first  revelation  of  the  Day 
of  Judgment;  a  sinful  soul  meets  face 
to  face  with  Jesus — with  Jesus  as  her 
Judge.  She  meets  Him  alone.  I  believe  this  is 
typical  of  Christ's  judgment  of  all  souls.  I 
think  the  moment  immediately  after  death  is  a 
moment  of  solitude  in  which  the  spirit  stands 
face  to  face  with  Christ.  I  think  it  is  a  moment 
of  simple  retrospect  in  which  the  past  lives  as  a 
present — in  which  I  shall  see  myself  in  the  light 
of  the  Son  of  Man.  "  I  thought  it  was  to  be  a 
general  assize,"  you  say;  "  is  it  not  written  that 
the  dead,  small  and  great,  shall  stand  before 
God  ?  "  Yes,  my  brother,  but  it  does  not  fol- 
low they  shall  stand  before  you.  You  may  be 
moving  in  a  procession  whose  every  man  is  in- 


RETIREMENT  261 

visible  to  you.  God  sees  it  all;  but  yoii  may  be 
conscious  only  of  yourself  and  Ilim.,  You  may 
hear  no  tread  behind  you ;  you  may  see  no  man 
before  you;  you  may  feel  yourself  alone  with 
God.  I  think  this  moment  of  solitude  is  more 
favourable  to  judgment  than  is  the  scene  popu- 
larly figured.  The  presence  of  a  visible  crowd 
does  not  help  self-examination.  It  is  a  retard- 
ing influence.  It  makes  me  look,  not  in,  but 
out.  I  keep  criticising  the  chances  of  the  multi- 
tude when  I  ought  to  be  considering  my  own. 
Like  Peter,  instead  of  asking  pardon  for  my 
denial  of  the  Lord,  I  fix  my  eye  on  John,  and 
say,  ''Lord,  what  shall  this  man  do?"  It  is 
well  that  for  one  instant  a  screen  should  be 
drawn  between  my  brother  and  me.  It  is  well 
that  in  the  great  procession  John  should  be  hid 
from  Peter's  eye.  It  is  well  that  for  a  moment 
on  the  Mount  I  should  see  no  man  but  Jesus 
only. 

My  soul,  practise  being  alone  with  Christ! 
It  is  written  that  "  when  they  were  alone  He 
expounded  all  things  to  His  disciples."  Do 
not  wonder  at  the  sayinc;-;  it  is  true  to  thine 
experience.     If  thou  wouldst  understand  thy- 


Q.6i  TIMES  OF 

self,  send  the  multitude  away.  Let  them  all  go 
out  one  by  one  till  thou  art  left  alone  with 
Jesus.  To  be  alone  with  Jesus  is  to  have  thy 
judgment-day.  It  was  when  the  Lord  put  out 
the  Pharisees  that  the  woman  began  to  feel  her 
sinfulness.  As  long  as  the  Pharisees  were  there 
she  kept  saying  to  herself,  "  They  are  as  bad, 
they  are  as  bad !  "  But  when  the  Pharisees 
went  out  she  lost  that  consolation.  She  stood 
alone  in  the  Courts  of  the  Lord  zmth  the  Lord; 
she  could  only  measure  herself  by  Him.  Hast 
thou  ever  figured  thyself  as  the  last  of  living 
men?  Hast  thou  ever  fancied  that  all  were 
dead  but  thee?  Hast  thou  ever  pictured  thy- 
self the  one  remaining  creature  in  the  earth, 
the  one  remaining  creature  in  all  the  starry 
worlds  ?  In  such  a  universe  thine  every  thought 
would  be  "God  and  I!  God  and  I!"  And 
yet  He  is  as  near  to  thee  as  that — as  near  as  if 
in  the  boundless  spaces  there  throbbed  no  heart 
but  His  and  thine.  Practise  that  solitude,  O  my 
soul!  Practise  the  expulsion  of  the  crowd! 
Practise  the  stillness  of  thine  own  heart!  Prac- 
tise the  solemn  refrain  "  God  and  I !    God  and 


RETIREMENT  161, 

T !  "  Let  none  interpose  between  thee  and  thy 
wrestling-  angel !  Thoii  shalt  be  both  con- 
demned and  pardoned  when  thou  shalt  meet 
Jesus  alone! 


264  TIMES  OF 


"THE  PECULIARITY  OF  HUMAN 
GREATNESS " 

"  /  drew  them  with  cords  of  a  man,  with  bands  of  love." 

Hosea  xi.  4. 

CORDS  and  bands — these  suggest  a  state 
of  limitation.  A  cord  is  something 
which  confines,  imprisons.  Is  it  not 
strange  that  God  should  draw  man  by  the  thing 
which  limits  him !  However,  strange,  it  is  true. 
Man  is  drawn  to  the  sky  by  that  side  of  his 
nature  which  depresses  him.  It  is  not  my  sense 
of  infinitude  that  makes  me  crave  for  God;  it 
is  my  sense  of  limit.  I  am  distinguished  from 
the  beast  of  the  field  not  by  the  things  I  have, 
but  by  the  things  I  have  not.  The  lower  crea- 
tures have  more  liberty  than  I;  they  have  fewer 
cords,  fewer  bands.  There  is  no  restriction 
imposed  upon  their  acts;  they  roam  at  will 
through  the  forest,  they  flit  unfettered  through 
the  air.     But  the  moment  my  conscious  being 


RETIREMENT  26s 

dawns  T  find  myself  in  bands.  I  have  not 
power  (^f  free  movement;  I  cannot  do  as  I 
choose.  There  is  a  band  of  conscience  round 
me — something  which  says,  "  Thou  shalt  not !  " 
There  is  a  band  of  duty  round  me — a  thing 
which  says,  **  You  are  bound — you  ought !  " 
Above  all,  there  is  a  band  of  love  round  me. 
This  is  the  most  limiting  of  all  the  cords.  It 
makes  me  feel  that  I  am  literally  tied 
to  my  brother — that  I  am  a  part  of  his  body, 
and  cannot  get  away.  Men  speak  of  love  as 
the  spirit's  zimg.  Yet  truly  it  is  rather  the 
spirit's  cord.  It  keeps  me  chained  to  you.  It 
refuses  to  let  me  soar  w^ithout  you.  It  bids  me 
lift  your  weight,  your  pain.  It  holds  me  to  the 
ground  where  you  are  lying.  It  compels  me  to 
bear  your  cross. 

O  Christ,  I  bless  Thee  for  Thy  cords !  It  is 
these,  and  not  my  wings,  that  have  lifted  me 
to  Thee.  It  is  my  limits  that  have  widened  me; 
it  is  the  bands  of  love  that  have  enlarged  me. 
I  once  thought  I  should  reach  Thee  through 
the  broad  expanse.  I  thought  I  could  soar  to 
Thee  on  the  wings  of  speculation,  on  the  pinions 
of   fancy;   but   I    found   they   brought   me  no 


166  TIMES  OF 

nearer  to  Thee.  I  have  come  nearer  to  Thee 
by  the  most  unHkely  road — the  narrow  way. 
Not  on  the  path  of  the  bird  have  I  found  Thee. 
Not  on  the  track  of  the  telescope  have  I  traced 
Thy  footsteps.  Not  where  imagination  tran- 
scends reahty  have  I  seen  Thy  face.  I  have 
met  Thee  amidst  my  bonds.  I  have  met  Thee 
when  I  wore  creation's  extra  chain — the  chain 
of  love.  My  house  of  bondage  has  been  my 
Land  of  Canaan;  my  prison  has  become  my 
palace.  The  tribes  of  the  air  have  flown  upon 
the  wings  of  the  wind,  and  have  not  reached 
the  Promised  Land;  /  have  walked  with  the 
steps  of  weariness  and  have  come  to  the  shining 
river.  My  cord  has  emancipated  me.  My 
limit  has  liberated  me.  My  fetter  has  freed  me. 
My  cross  has  crowned  me.  The  burden  of  my 
love  has  burnished  my  life  with  gold.  Thou 
hast  drawn  me  upward  by  that  which  threatened 
to  keep  me  down;  I  bless  Thee,  O  Lord,  for 
Thy  restraining  bands ! 


RETIRKMKNT  267 


''  CTTRTST'S  APPROPRIATION  OF  THE 
SECULAR  " 

"His  Sun,  whom  He  hath  appointed  heir  of  all  things." 

Hebrews  i.  2. 

IF  I  become  a  Christian,  must  I  give  up  the 
things  of  the  world?  The  writer  to  the 
Hebrews  says,  No.  He  says  that  becom- 
ing a  Christian  is  not  an  abandonment,  but  a 
transference  of  man's  state.  I  do  not  give  up 
the  things  of  the  world,  but  I  make  a  new  will; 
I  make  Christ  heir  to  them.  If  I  gave  them  up, 
I  should  leave  Christ  heir  to  nothing.  There 
is  a  great  difference  between  abandoning  a 
thing  and  giving  it  to  Christ;  it  is  the  differ- 
ence between  annihilating  and  transferring. 
I  knew  a  lady  who,  when  she  became  seriou«^, 
sold  her  piano — an  instrument  in  which  she  was 
proficient.  She  should  have  made  Christ  the 
heir  to  her  piano.  It  is  too  bad  to  burn  all  the 
fine  pictures  in  the  house  before  you  hand  it 


268  TIMES  OF 

over.  I  am  told  to  cast  all  my  cares  upon 
Christ — to  make  Him  the  heir  to  my  cares; 
and  it  is  well.  But  is  Christ  to  have  nothing 
but  my  cares ;  is  He  not  to  have  my  advantages 
too !  Shall  I  give  Him  only  my  thorn  and  keep 
back  my  rose !  Shall  I  yield  Him  only  my  tares 
and  withhold  my  wheat!  Shall  I  offer  Him 
only  my  tears,  and  withhold  from  Him  the 
sight  of  my  smile !  Shall  I  let  the  flower  wither 
before  presenting  it!  Shall  I  impoverish  my 
life  before  surrendering  it !  Shall  I  mutilate 
my  spirit  before  committing  it  into  His  hands ! 
Nay,  my  Lord,  I  will  not  do  that!  I  am 
making  Thee  the  heir  to  my  estate,  and  I  will 
not  give  Thee  only  the  barren  soil.  Thou  art 
coming  into  my  ancestral  dwelling,  and  I  will 
not  dismantle  it  beforehand.  Rather  will  I 
beautify  it  for  Thy  coming.  I  will  light  wami 
fires  within  it.  I  will  spread  a  rich  carpet  for 
Thy  feet  as  they  did  at  Jerusalem  long  ago. 
I  will  repair  the  old  furniture.  I  will  enlarge 
the  rooms.  I  will  paint  the  walls.  I  will  adorn 
and  fructify  the  grounds.  I  will  say  of  my 
house  what  Thou  hast  said  of  Thine — ''  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  Thee/'    All  that  is  in  my 


RETIREMENT  269 

house  shall  he  Thine.  I  will  not  divide  llic 
rooms  into  secular  and  sacred;  they  will  all  he 
sacred.  Every  ro(^m  will  he  a  private  chapel — 
a  place  for  the  worship  of  Thcc.  Not  by  speak- 
ing of  Thee  w^ill  I  serve  Thee,  but  by  diffusing 
Thy  spirit.  I  will  try  to  put  Thy  spirit,  not 
only  into  my  sorrows,  but  into  my  joys.  I  will 
make  Thee  heir  to  my  gifts  by  using  the  gifts 
for  others.  Men  call  the  Church  Thy  service; 
I  will  make  the  World  Thy  service  too.  I  will 
try  how  many  my  joys  can  gladden,  how  many 
my  gifts  can  cheer,  hov^  many  my  wealth 
can  succour,  how  many  my  influence  can 
shelter.  I  will  make  Thy  spirit  heir  to  all 
my  pleasures,  for  I  shall  have  no  pleasure  un- 
shared by  human  hearts.  All  my  bread  will 
be  Communion  bread;  all  my  wine  will  be  Sac- 
ramental wnne.  Thou  shalt  be  the  accompani- 
ment to  all  my  music,  the  guide  of  all  my 
travels,  the  companion  of  all  my  excursions,  the 
aim  of  all  my  ambitions,  the  joy  of  all  my  en- 
tertainments, the  counsellor  of  all  my  transac- 
tions. I  shall  be  a  better  man  of  the  world 
when  I  have  made  Thee  heir  of  all  things ! 


270  TIMES  OF 


THE  SECRET  OF  ARTLESSNESS 

"Let  not  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right  hand 
doeth."— Matt.  vi.  3. 

THE  virtue  here  commended  is  artless- 
ness — unconsciousness  of  self.  In  a 
human  soul  it  is  a  quality  supremely 
beautiful.  I  do  not  think  it  is  supremely  beauti- 
ful in  a  bird  of  the  air.  The  song  of  the  lark 
charms  me,  and  the  singer  is  unconscious  of  his 
song;  yet  I  never  say  I  should  like  to  be  a  lark. 
Why  so?  Because  the  lark  is  not  only  uncon- 
scious of  himself;  he  is  unconscious  of  me. 
The  artlessness  which  I  admire  in  my  brother- 
man  is  not  the  absence  of  a  motive;  it  is  the 
absence  of  an  individual  motive.  I  should  not 
appreciate  a  gift  if  the  giver  were  unconscious 
of  its  value;  that  would  take  away  the  charm. 
I  do  not  want  him  to  forget  the  value  of  the 
gift,  but  to  forget  his  own  value.  I  want  him 
to  see  mc  in  his  mirror — to  be  so  filled  with 


RETIREMENT  ayi 

interest  in  me  as  to  l)e  unaware  that  he  is  pass- 
ing himself  by.  There  is  an  unconsciousness 
of  self  which  comes  from  emptiness,  and  it  be- 
longs to  the  undeveloped  mind.  But  the  uncon- 
sciousness of  self  which  /  desire  is  one  which 
comes  from  deeper  fulness.  I  would  become 
artless  through  love.  They  tell  us  that  self- 
consciousness  mars  a  photograph.  Yes;  but 
how  am  I  to  get  free  from  it?  Shall  I  try, 
when  the  impression  is  being  taken,  to  sink 
into  a  reverie — to  dull  the  pulses  of  my  own 
heart?  Then  the  impression  also  will  be  dull,  be- 
reft of  the  spirit.  But  if  I  want  to  be  off  guard, 
there  is  a  more  excellent  way — let  me  think  of 
another !  The  art  of  love  makes  us  artless.  I 
have  read  of  Moses,  ''  he  wist  not  that  the  skin 
of  his  face  shone."  Doubtless  the  unconscious- 
ness was  the  reason  of  the  shining;  but  how  did 
he  get  this  unconsciousness?  Did  he  fall 
asleep?  Did  he  become  apathetic?  Did  he  try 
to  feel  himself  a  poor  creature?  All  the  reverse. 
He  had  been  upon  a  mount  of  glory.  He  had 
gazed  on  the  Divine  beauty.  He  had  been  at- 
tracted to  an  Other.  He  had  seen  the  sun,  and 
had   forgot  his  own  candle — forgot,  even,  to 


272  TIMES  OF 

extinguish    it.     He    had    lost    himself,  not  in 
darkness,  but  in  light. 

In  that  light  let  me  lose  myself,  O  Lord! 
Be  mine  the  artlessness  of  love — rof  love  to 
Thee!  If  in  Thy  light  I  shall  see  light,  I  shall 
be  unconscious  of  all  beside.  Not  in  death, 
not  in  apathy,  not  even  in  self-depreciation, 
would  I  forget  myself,  but  only  in  Thee.  Take 
me  to  the  Mount,  O  Lord,  take  me  to  the 
Mount!  Bathe  me  in  the  radiance  of  love! 
Let  the  sight  of  Thee  hide  me  from  my  own 
soul.  It  is  not  that  I  want  to  feel  my  righteous- 
ness to  be  "  filthy  rags;  "  that  itself  would  be  a 
thought  about  self.  I  want  to  forget  my  right- 
eousness altogether — to  think  nothing  about  it, 
either  good  or  bad.  Not  by  depression  but 
by  elevation  would  I  lose  my  pride.  Not  by 
soiling  my  garment  in  the  mire  would  I  be- 
come oblivious  of  its  existence.  I  would  for- 
get it  by  gazing  an  another  garment — the  spot- 
less robe  of  Thy  Christ.  With  Thee,  with  Him, 
would  I  stand  upon  the  Mount  until  my  own 
plain  and  my  own  valley  alike  disappear.  When 
I  reach  the  hilltop  of  Thy  love  I  shall  be  art- 
less as  a  child. 


RETIREMENT 


273 


CHRISTIAN  CHILDHOOD 

"Then  went  lie  down  and  dipped  in  Jordan ;  and  his 
flesh  came  again  like  unto  the  flesh  of  a  little  child." 

2  Kings  V.  14. 

WHEN  a  man  has  dipped  in  the  wave 
of  experience  he  comes  back  to  the 
impressions  of  his  childhood.  I 
have  been  often  struck  with  the  fact  that  there 
are  no  two  states  so  Hke  one  another  as  the 
first  and  the  last.  There  is  nothing  so  like  the 
beginning  as  the  end.  In  the  morning  the  sun 
stands  upon  the  mountains;  in  the  evening  he 
stands  upon  the  mountains  too.  Life  in  its 
primitive  form  is  guided  by  instinct;  life  in  its 
completed  form  is  again  guided  by  instinct — 
the  power  of  intuitive  sight.  Our  existence 
opens  with  a  sense  of  freedom — freedom  born 
of  self-will;  our  existence  culminates  also  in  a 
sense  of  freedom — freedom  born  of  surrendered 
will — the  liberty  of  love.     I  have  been  often 


274  TIMES  OF 

impressed  by  these  words  of  Paul,  "  We  rejoice 
in  hope;  and  we  glory  in  tribulation  also — 
knowing  that  tribulation  worketh  patience,  and 
patience  experience,  and  experience  hope."  Do 
you  observe  the  beautiful  circle!  We  begin 
with  the  rejoicing  in  hope,  and  we  end  with  the 
rejoicing  in  hope.  Between  the  hope  at  the 
beginning  and  the  hope  at  the  end  there  is  inter- 
posed a  wave  of  experience — a  dipping  in  the 
waters  of  tribulation.  We  stand  at  the  close 
of  the  day  on  that  very  point  of  the  beach 
wdiere  we  stood  at  morning;  but  there  is  a 
difference.  At  morning  we  stood  there  with- 
out experience;  in  the  evening  we  stand  there 
after  experience.  In  the  morning  we  had  a 
child's  buoyancy,  because  we  saw  not  the  com- 
ing tribulation ;  in  the  evening  we  have  a  child's 
buoyancy,  because  we  have  conquered  the  tribu- 
lation. In  the  morning  we  were  sanguine  be- 
cause we  expected  to  escape  the  storm;  in  the 
evening  we  are  sanguine  because  we  have  borne 
the  strength  of  the  storm  and  learned  that  life 
is  stronger  than  its  ills. 

Restore  to  me,   O  Lord,   the  spirit  of  my 
youth ;   give  me  back  the   buoyancy   of   early 


RETIREMENT  275 

days !    Set  me  on  that  point  of  the  beach  where 
I  stood  at  morning!     Yet  not  with  the  same 
eyes  would  I  view  hfe's  boundless  sea.     When 
I  stood  on  the  beach  in  youth  the  waters  were 
calm.     My  joy  was  the  gladness  of  seeing  no 
storm.     It  never  occurred  to  me  that  I  could 
plunge  into   the   waters   and   live.      Not   thus 
would  I  stand  upon  the  beach  in  the  afternoon ! 
I  would  survey  the  sea  from  the  old  standpoint 
with  a  new^  glass.     I  would  assume  the  san- 
guineness  of    the    morning,    but    for  a  better 
reason !     No  longer  would  I  have  my  hope  to 
rest  in  clouds  averted;  I  would  have  it  rest  in 
clouds  endured.     I  would  have  all  the  old  pos- 
sessions in  a  new  casket.     I  would  have  child- 
hood's trust,  but  trust  after  trial.    I  would  have 
morning's    glow,    but    glow    after    gloom.     I 
would   have  life's  first   faith,   but  faith   after 
fighting.     I  would  have  youth's  bright  buoy- 
ancy, but  buoyancy  after  battle.     I  would  get 
back  the  confidence  of  the  dawn,  but  confidence 
after  conflict,    the   courage  of  love   to  Jesus. 
The  child   that  Christ   took  in   His  arms  had 
been  bathed  in  the  waiters  of  Jordan. 


276  TIMES  OF 


PETER^S   TYPE   OF   THE   ENDURING 

"  The  impcrishahlcness  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit." 

I  Peter  iii.  4. 

I  HAVE  translated  the  words  as  they  ought 
to  be  rendered.  Peter  is  contrasting  the 
things  which  are  showy  with  the  things 
which  last.  He  says  that  such  ornaments  as 
silver  and  gold  are  perishable  things.  He  says 
that  if  we  want  to  get  something  which  is  im- 
perishable  we  shall  need  to  seek  it  among  things 
which  are  not  showy.  And  certainly  he  selects 
a  most  unshowy  specimen  as  the  type  of  im- 
mortality !  A  meek  and  quiet  spirit — that 
seems  a  very  humble  thing!  If  the  nations  of 
his  day  had  been  asked  to  select  their  symbol 
of  imperishableness,  not  one  of  them  would 
have  chosen  this.  They  would  all  have  chosen 
symbols  which  expressed  the  loud  and  flaring. 
Egypt  would  have  brought  her  pyramids; 
Greece,  her  flowers;  Rome,  her  soaring  eagle; 


RETIRKMFNT  277 

Jutlah,  a  stone  of  her  great  temple.  But  none 
would  have  said  *'  My  emhlem  of  immortality 
is  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit."  He  who  first  said 
that  was  the  Divine  Man  who  preached  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount ;  He  it  was  that  promised 
the  permanence  to  the  meek.  Peter  got  his  ideal 
from  Him.  Peter  was  speaking  against  his 
own  nature.  His  was  not  a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit.  He  was  very  loud,  very  showy,  very 
eager  to  display  himself.  He  had  been  capti- 
vated by  a  mind  the  opposite  of  his  own. 
Originally,  he  would  have  promised  immortality 
to  the  powers  that  could  walk  upon  the  sea; 
under  the  influence  of  Jesus,  he  predicts  it  for 
the  quiet  deeds  of  home. 

My  soul,  despise  not  thy  moments  of  silence! 
Despise  not  the  hours  of  thy  self-restraint !  Is 
it  not  written  in  the  Apocalypse  that  the  Book 
of  Life  is  the  Lamb's  Book!  And  what  does 
that  mean?  Just  that  thy  most  lasting  colour 
is  thy  most  quiet  colour.  Bethink  thee!  what 
has  been  the  most  imperishable  thing  in  the 
most  changeful  years?  It  is  a  deed  of  self- 
restraint;  men  call  it  Calvary.  All  else  of  the 
far  past  has  vanished  from  thy  sight.     Thrones 


278  TIMES  OF 

have  tottered,  dynasties  have  faded,  fashions 
have  changed.  But  this  silent  deed  of  self-sur- 
render, done  in  an  obscure  corner  of  a  captive 
town,  is  as  fresh  as  the  memory  of  yesterday. 
The  old  world  has  gone  from  thee — its  faces 
and  its  phases.  Rome  has  let  fall  her  eagle 
from  the  air;  Greece  has  lost  her  flowers  in  the 
field;  Judah  has  seen  her  temple  in  the  dust. 
But  still  to  thee  one  spot  remains  green — the 
little  hill  of  Calvary.  There  it  stands  undim- 
med,  undying — outliving  cohort  and  legion, 
surviving  Senate  and  Caesar!  Pilate,  Herod, 
Caiaphas,  are  gone;  Priest  and  Levite  tread  the 
spot  no  more;  but  the  Green  Hill  keeps  its 
verdure  to  thy  view,  and  its  message  is  ever 
the  same — ''  The  imperishableness  of  a  meek 
and  quiet  spirit." 


RETIREMENT  oy^ 


THE  ROAD  TO  A  CORRECT  LIFE 

"  Let  us,  who  are  of  the  day,  he  sober,  putting  on  the 
breastplate  of  faith  and  love ;  and  for  a  helmet,  the  hope 
of  salvation." — i  Thessalonians  v.  8. 

WHAT  a  strange  recipe  for  a  sober 
walk  in  life!  I  should  have 
thought  Paul  would  have  prescribed 
hours  of  hard  work  and  commonplace  duty.  I 
should  have  thought  he  would  have  adminis- 
tered a  sedative  to  the  imagination.  Instead  of 
that,  he  recommends  a  course  of  powerful  emo- 
tions— faith,  hope,  love.  And  verily  Paul  is 
right;  he  must  have  known  human  nature  well! 
For  it  is  not  by  making  men  commonplace  that 
you  will  make  them  sober.  You  cannot  cure 
a  bad  passion  by  creating  passionlessness.  We 
are  in  a  great  mistake  about  this  matter.  We 
see  people  living  soberly,  sedately,  correctly. 
We  say,  ''  They  must  have  a  very  even  tem- 
perament;  they  must  be  free  from  all   flights 


28o  TIMES  OF 

of  fancy."  I  think  it  is  generally  the  reverse. 
I  think  a  man  is  never  so  correct  on  the  plain 
as  when  he  has  a  sure  sight  of  the  hills.  The 
moments  v^hen  we  go  wrong  are  mostly  our 
prosaic  moments.  There  is  a  deep  significance 
in  the  words,  "  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the 
hills,  whence  cometh  mine  aid."  Yes,  it  is  from 
the  hills  that  mine  aid  comes.  It  is  by  the  light 
of  the  hills  that  I  walk  on  the  common  road  and 
do  not  stray.  It  is  not  sober  precepts  that  keep 
me  sober;  it  is  high  flights  of  faith,  bright 
visions  of  hope,  deep  pulses  of  love.  To  live  a 
steady  life  I  need,  not  the  drag,  but  the  wing. 
I  need,  not  the  motto  in  the  copy-book,  but  a 
sight  of  the  golden  west.  I  can  only  travel 
through  to-day  on  the  strength  of  the  good 
time  coming. 

Therefore,  O  Lord,  I  understand  it  all.  I 
understand  why  Thou  hast  said  before  all 
things,  "  Come  unto  me/'  Thou  hast  not  be- 
gun by  saying,  "  Live  soberly,  walk  circum- 
spectly." Thou  hast  carried  me  to  the  Mount 
first  of  all.  Ere  Thou  hast  given  me  one  precept 
Thou  hast  set  me  on  the  hill  with  Thee.  Other 
masters  have  begun  with  earth  and  then  led 


RETIREMENT  og, 

up  to  licaven;  Tliou  hast  1)cp^un  with  heaven. 
and  then  led  down  to  earth.  T  l)less  Thee  for 
that  suhhme,  that  Divine  wisdom.  Earth  is 
too  difficult  for  me  till  I  have  seen  heaven. 
The  more  prosaic  be  my  duties,  the  more  I  need 
the  wings  of  the  morning.  I  will  not  try  the 
plain  till  I  have  met  Thee  on  the  hill.  Meet 
me  on  the  hill,  O  Lord!  Lift  me  above  earth 
that  I  may  serve  earth!  Fire  me  with  high 
enthusiasm  that  I  may  be  fit  for  the  common- 
place! Send  me  Elijah's  chariot  that  I  may 
sweep  o'er  the  dusty  plain !  Give  me  one 
gleam  of  Thy  glory  that  I  may  tread  the  beaten 
path!  Take  me  for  one  minute  into  Thy 
pavilion  ere  I  go  out  on  my  daily  round!  In- 
spire me  with  the  poetry  of  faith,  hope,  love, 
that  I  may  not  stumble  in  the  world's  prose! 
I  shall  only  be  adequate  to  the  day  when  I 
have  put  on  the  armour  of  the  Life  Eternal. 


2^2  TIMES  OF 


THE  SINLESSNESS  OE  THE  SECOND 
BIRTH 

"  Whoever  is  born  of  God  doth  not  commit  sin." 

I  John  iii.  9. 

IS  not  this  a  startling  statement — a  most 
discouraging  statement?  Is  there  any 
one  of  us  that  has  not  something  bad  in 
him?  Is  that  bad  thing  a  sign  that  I  am  not 
born  again  ?  St.  John  does  not  say  so.  What 
he  says  is  that  the  new  life  which  is  born  will 
not  be  held  responsible  for  the  bad  thing.  It 
is  not  that  the  old  impurity  is  not  there,  but 
that  it  is  no  longer  imputed.  When  the  sun 
of  a  new  day  rises,  it  rises  amid  the  clouds  of 
the  old  day.  It  does  not  all  at  once  become 
glorious.  It  dawns  amid  the  shadows  gathered 
and  left  behind  by  yester  eve;  with  these 
shadows,  for  a  time,  it  walks  side  by  side. 
Yet  we  do  not  impute  these  shadows  to  the  new 
day;  we  impute  them  to  the  past  night.     The 


RETIRKMKNT  283 

rising  sun  is  guiltless  of  them.  Its  new  birth  is 
unspotted  by  them.  It  has  become  heir  to  the 
corruptions  of  a  previous  day;  but  the  previous 
day  bears  all  the  reproach,  and  the  new  li^ht 
goes  free.  So  is  it  with  the  new  light  in  my 
soul.  It  is  born  amid  the  clouds  of  yester- 
day. It  dawns  amid  the  shadows  of  the  past 
— the  vices  of  the  past.  It  does  not  wait  for 
the  death  of  old  habits;  it  comes  before  they 
die.  None  the  less  do  we  hold  it  sinless,  guilt- 
less. The  old  habits  which  strew  its  path  are  no 
part  of  its  attire.  They  belong  to  the  garments 
which  the  vanished  night  has  left  behind,  and 
they  dim  not  our  sense  of  the  Divine  beauty 
which  is  rising. 

My  Father,  I  thank  Thee  for  the  revelation 
that  there  may  be  a  sinless  Christ  within  me 
where  the  memorials  of  sin  yet  remain!  Often 
have  I  been  distressed  at  the  clouds  after  con- 
version. There  have  come  to  me  moments  of 
rapt  vision — moments  when  heaven  was  near, 
and  earth  seemed  far  away.  Yet  by  and  by  they 
have  passed,  and  I  have  found  myself  repeating 
the  deeds  of  yesterday,  and  I  have  cried  with 
exceeding  bitterness  "  The  sinless  vision  was  a 


284  TIMES  OF 

delusion;  I  have  not  been  born  again!"  At 
such  times,  O  Lord,  let  me  hear  this  message 
of  Thine  that  the  clouds  of  yesterday  are  not 
imputed  to  the  rising  sun!  Let  me  hear  the 
new  life  within  me  saying,  ''  These  sins  are  not 
mine! ''  Let  me  hear  the  new  man  within  me 
singing,  "  It  is  not  /  who  have  done  it;  it  is  an 
heirloom  of  yesterday ! "  Teach  me  that, 
though  my  Christ  is  born  in  the  manger,  the 
manger  is  not  a  part  of  my  Christ !  Teach  me 
that,  though  He  is  born  with  the  beasts  of  the 
stall.  He  lives  by  another  life  than  theirs! 
Teach  me  that,  though  He  cometh  with  clouds, 
the  clouds  belong  to  my  yester  eve — not  to  the 
light  of  His  morning !  Teach  me  that  the  new 
life  is  sinless,  though  it  wears  the  garments  of 
the  old!  Let  me  not  sink  before  the  sight  of 
shadows  after  dawn !  Let  me  not  quail  before 
the  view  of  grey  amid  the  gold!  Let  me  not 
deem  my  Christ  still  dead  because  the  stone  is 
not  rolled  away!  Let  me  remember  that  His 
rising  precedes  the  opening  of  the  grave!  So 
shall  I  not  despair  though  evil  lingers;  so,  even 
amid  corruption,  shall  I  cherish  hope  that  al- 
ready in  my  soul  there  maybe  a  life  without  sin. 


RETIREMENT  285 


CHRIST'S  CALL  TO  THE  BEREAVED 

"And  another  of  His  discit'lcs  said,  Lord,  suffer  mc 
first  to  go  and  bury  my  father.  But  Jesus  said  unto  him, 
Follow  me;    and  let  the  dead  bury  their  dead." 

Matt.  viii.  21,  22. 

^^^UFFER  me  first  to  bury  my  father" 
1^^  — to  finish  the  days  of  mourning  for 
my  father.  What  the  young  man  really 
meant  was  that  he  did  not  feel  in  spirits  for 
joining  such  a  public  cause  as  that  of  Jesus — 
involving,  as  it  did,  such  contact  with  the 
world;  he  wanted  for  a  while  to  nurse  his  grief 
in  seclusion.  There  are  many  whose  sorrow 
takes  the  form  of  this  young  man's  sorrow. 
We  have  a  tendency  in  the  time  of  bereave- 
ment to  resist  locomotion,  to  keep  within  doors, 
to  go  nowhere.  I  believe  this  fear  of  going  out 
springs  from  the  dread  of  coming  hack.  I  once 
urged  a  bereaved  lady  to  seek  a  temporary 
change  of  scene.  She  said  she  would  go  at 
once  but  for  the  terror  of  returning — of  meet- 


286  TIMES  OF 

ing  anew  the  old  haunts  without  the  old  ac- 
companiments. To  come  back  to  the  old  house 
and  find  no  welcome  there — to  enter  the  hall  and 
miss  the  former  greeting,  to  mount  the  stairs 
and  hear  no  footstep  descending  to  meet  me, 
to  see  the  familiar  chair  without  its  occupant, 
to  experience  the  blank  in  spots  which  once 
were  full— all  this  is  reaped  by  the  bereaved 
heart  in  coming  home.  It  reminds  us  of  the 
poet's  plaint  when  he  stood  by  a  familiar  sea 
and  heard  the  breaking  of  a  familiar  wave,  but 
missed  "  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand  and  the 
sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still."  The  heart  that 
has  not  buried  its  sorrow  refuses  to  go  out 
because  it  dreads  returning. 

And  yet,  my  brother,  Jesus  bids  thee  go.  As 
He  bade  the  young  man,  so  He  bids  thee. 
Thou  canst  not  cure  thine  own  sorrow  by  nurs- 
ing it ;  the  longer  it  is  nursed,  the  more  invet- 
erate it  grows.  It  will  be  harder  for  thee  to 
go  out  to-morrow  than  it  is  to-day;  it  will  be 
harder  ^//7/  the  day  after.  Thou  canst  not 
cure  thy  sorrow  by  nursing  it;  but  thou  canst 
cure  it  by  nursing  another's  sorrow.  Thinkest 
thou  that  Jesus  wanted  this  young  man  to  be 


RETIREMENT  287 

a  stoic!  Was  it  from  the  ties  of  the  heart  He 
called  him  when  He  said  "  Follow  me  "?  No, 
it  was  to  the  ties  of  the  heart — other  ties  of 
other  hearts.  It  was  no  foreign  scene  to  which 
Jesus  called  him — no  scene  foreign  to  his  grief. 
Not  from  the  graveyard  into  the  dance  did  He 
summon  him,  but  from  the  smaller  into  the 
larger  cemetery.  Thither  in  thine  hour  of  sor- 
row does  He  summon  thee.  He  bids  thee  bury 
thy  sorrow,  not  in  Cana,  but  in  Gethsemane — 
not  in  the  winecup,  but  in  the  common  pain. 
It  is  by  tears  He  would  heal  thy  tears;  it  is  by 
grief  He  would  cure  thy  grief.  Come  out  into 
the  larger  cemetery;  come  out  to  meet  the  com- 
mon pain!  By  no  frivolity  will  He  dry  thine 
eyes.  To  follow  Him  is  to  follow  the  cortoge 
of  all  the  Nains  and  Bethanys.  To  follow  Him 
is  to  follow  the  stream  of  universal  human 
suffering.    Bury  thy  sorrow  beside  that  stream ! 


288  TIMES  OF 


THE  CURATIVE  WISDOM  OF  JESUS 

"Jesus  asked  him,  saying,  What  is  thy  name?  And 
he  said,  Legion:  because  many  devils  were  entered  into 
him." — Luke  viii.  30. 

I  HAVE  often  thought  this  was  a  strange 
mode  of  treatment  from  the  Great  Phy- 
sician. He  asks  the  man,  "  What  is  thy 
name?" — what  is  the  nature  of  your  com- 
plaint? He  knew  perfectly  well  what  it  was — 
much  better  than  the  patient.  Yet  He  asks  the 
patient  to  fix  his  mind  on  his  own  symptoms! 
Was  this  well?  Is  it  not  reckoned  good  to 
divert  the  mind  from  its  own  calamities  ?  Not 
always.  There  are  times  in  which  the  contrary 
is  desirable;  and  this  was  one  of  them.  This 
man  had  been  hardened  by  his  calamity.  He 
had  received  it  in  a  bad  spirit — an  arrogant, 
rebellious,  stony  spirit.  He  had  become  so 
sullen  that  he  had  grown  dead  to  feeling;  he 
had  lived  among  the  tombs.     What  was  the 


RETIREMENT  289 

first  thing  to  be  clone  with  such  a  man?  To 
rouse  him,  to  make  him  feel.  Before  all  things 
the  atmosphere  of  the  tombs,  the  sense  of  dead- 
ness,  must  be  cleared  away.  The  nearest  par- 
allel to  this  narrative  which  I  know  in  modern 
days  will  be  found  in  these  touching  lines  of 
Tennyson : — 

Home  they  brought  her  warrior  dead, 
She  nor  swooned  nor  uttered  sigh ; 

All  her  maidens  round  her  said, 
"  She  must  weep  or  she  must  die." 

The  resemblance  lies  in  the  deadening  ex- 
perience, the  tomb-like  experience,  of  each 
sufferer.  Both  have  to  be  awakened  to  a  sense 
of  their  own  sorrow.  Both  have  to  be  roused 
into  the  experience  of  their  pain.  Both  require 
to  get  their  sleep  interrupted — to  be  pointed  to 
the  storm  which  is  raging  o'er  the  deck.  When 
the  heart  is  becoming  petrified  it  is  good  for  it 
to  realise  that  the  name  of  its  woes  is  **  Legion." 

Hast  thou  considered  this  wisdom  of  Jesus ! 
There  are  moments  when  thy  grief  can  only 
be  cured  by  tears.  When  thy  joy  is  brought 
home  dead,  often  canst  thou  neither  swoon  nor 
sigh,  neither  sob  nor  moan.     The  clock  of  life 


290  TIMES  OF 

stands  still;  it  cannot  point  to  the  name  of  its 
own  sorrow.  Thou  art  among  the  tombs. 
Thou  art  dumb,  deaf,  blind  to  thy  surround- 
ings. Hast  thou  considered  the  wisdom  of 
Jesus!  Say  not  it  was  one  of  the  poets  made 
the  discovery  that  such  a  one  must  weep  or 
die!  It  was  seen  earlier  than  by  any  of  thy 
poets;  it  was  seen  by  the  eye  of  Jesus.  ''  What 
is  the  name  of  thy  grief?  "  He  cries  to  the  be- 
numbed heart;  ''  what  is  the  name  of  the  dread 
power  that  wrestles  with  thee?"  He  wants 
thee  to  feel  the  might  of  the  opposing  legion. 
He  wants  to  wake  thy  tears.  He  wants  to 
break  the  reign  of  death  in  thy  heart.  He 
wants  by  a  gush  of  waters  to  melt  the  ice  upon 
the  river.  ''  What  is  the  name  of  thy  sorrow  ? 
Tell  me  the  tale  of  thy  grief!  Speak  it  out;  do 
not  keep  it  in!  If  it  be  kept  in,  thou  wilt  be 
cramped  and  frozen.  Tell  it  to  somebody,  nay, 
tell  it  to  me!  I  know  it  already;  but  to  speak 
will  help  thy  heart.  Pour  forth  the  pent-up 
torrent  into  my  bosom,  and  the  flood  will  bring 
thee  to  Mount  Ararat;  thy  tears  will  give  thee 
rest !  Thy  grief  has  passed  the  sepulchre  when 
it  can  say,  '  My  name  is  Legion.'  " 


RETIREMENT  29 


THE  BEST  TRIBUNAL 

"  We  must  all  appear  before   the  judgment  seat  of 
Christ." — 2  Cor.  v.  lo. 

I  AM  glad  it  is  before  the  judgment  seat 
of  Christ  I  am  to  stand.  I  should  not  like 
to  stand  before  any  lesser  tribunal.  I 
used  to  think  it  was  a  hard  thing  that  the  lowest 
should  be  confronted  by  the  highest.  I  have 
found  that  it  is  the  kindest  of  all  things.  None 
is  so  fit  to  judge  the  lowest  as  the  highest. 
The  beginner  in  art  should  go  to  the  master- 
painter;  the  beginner  in  music  should  go  to  the 
master-singer.  I  thought  in  the  days  of  old 
that  the  best  chance  for  me  would  lie  in  the  mind 
nearest  to  my  level.  It  was  a  great  mistake. 
It  is  the  master-mind  that  sees  the  possibilities 
of  the  tyro.  I  will  not  be  judged  by  the  angels 
— not  even  by  the  guardian  angels.  They  may 
guard  me,  but  they  must  not  judge  me.  I  have 
done  a  piece  of  beginner's  work.     It  is  very 


292  TIMES  OF 

crude,  very  faulty,  very  childish.  But  possibly 
there  may  be  germs  in  it — prophecies  of  a  com- 
ing beauty.  Who  shall  detect  these  germs? 
Not  my  brother  on  earth,  not  the  angel  in 
heaven.  These  are  not  high  enough  to  take  the 
child  in  their  arms.  They  are  on  too  low  a 
level  to  catch  sight  of  the  returning  prodigal; 
their  eye  cannot  discern  a  form  so  far  off.  If 
I  want  recognition  of  my  possibilities,  I  must 
lift  my  eyes  to  the  hills. 

To  Thy  hill  of  holiness  do  I  lift  mine  eyes, 

0  Lord;  my  safety  comes  only  from  Thee!  I 
fly  to  the  height  to  find  room  for  my  valley. 
Only  before  Thy  judgment  seat  is  there  a 
chance  for  me.  There  is  no  chance  for  me  when 

1  stop  at  the  plain.  The  minds  in  the  middle 
of  the  ladder  have  no  eye  for  those  below  them. 
Therefore,  I  will  not  pause  in  the  middle;  I 
will  seek  the  topmost  round.  I  pass  the  judg- 
ment thrones  of  earth;  I  come  to  Thee.  The 
judgment  thrones  of  earth  are  speckled  thrones; 
Thine  is  the  great  zMte  throne.  I  appeal  to 
the  great  white  throne  against  the  speckled 
thrones.  I  say  with  Thy  Psalmist,  "  When 
shall  I  appear  before  Godf  "    I  have  long  been 


RETIRKMKNT  293 

appearing  licfore  man ;  I  thought  the  lower 
court  would  be  the  lenient  court.  But  I  have 
ever  come  out  a  condemned  soul.  My  brother 
cannot  see  my  germs;  he  is  too  near  to  me  for 
that.  I  appeal  to  the  higher  court,  the  upper 
court.  I  appeal  from  Felix  to  C?esar;  I  appeal 
from  earth  to  heaven.  I  understand  now  Thine 
invitation,  *'  Come  unto  luc  and  /  will  give  you 
rest."  I  come  to  Thee!  I  pass  the  plain  in  my 
flight  from  the  valley;  I  make  for  the  height.  I 
bring  my  sins  to  Thy  judgment  seat — my 
crimson  sins,  my  scarlet  sins.  I  come  to  the 
mind  of  the  master — the  Master-Mind.  Save 
me  from  the  judgment  thrones  of  the  partially 
pure;  I  would  "appear"  to  none  but  Thee! 


294  TIMES  OF 


THE  PRESERVATION  OF  WASTE 
THINGS 

*'  The  napkin  that  was  about  His  head,  wrapped  to- 
gether in  a  place  by  itself."— John  xx.  7. 

WHY  SO  careful  of  so  poor  a  thing? 
A  napkin  which  had  covered  the 
face  of  the  dead  Christ  is  wrapped 
together  by  angel  hands,  and  laid  in  a  corner 
apart!  It  had  never  been  meant  for  any  use 
but  as  a  covering  of  the  dead  face  of  Jesus. 
Even  that  use  had  been  rendered  impracticable; 
Jesus  had  risen,  and  His  face  had  become  rad- 
iant with  life.  There  was  no  further  need  of 
the  napkin.  It  had  been  intended  only  for 
the  grave;  and  now  even  for  the  grave  it 
was  useless.  Why  did  the  angel  not  simply 
pass  it  by?  Why  take  it  up  tenderly,  fold  it 
together  carefully,  lay  it  by  separately?  We 
can  understand  the  gathering  of  the  fragments 
that  remained  from  the  desert  feast,  for  these 


RETIREMENT  295 

could  make  another  feast.  But  the  napkin  liad 
reached  its  final  sphere,  and  there  was  no  fur- 
ther place  for  it ;  why  should  celestial  hands  he 
so  sedulous  for  its  preservation?  Because  all 
our  discarded  past  lives  in  the  thought  of  God. 
The  things  we  have  surmounted  and  thrown 
away  are  gathered  up  by  heaven.  It  takes  our 
chafif  into  its  garner.  The  dead  past  which  I  dis- 
miss with  scorn  is  treasured  by  the  hand  of  the 
Almighty.  It  is  meant  to  meet  us  again  in  the 
Resurrection  Light — to  be  seen  in  retrospect 
from  the  top  of  the  hill.  Many  a  dead  garment 
is  glorified  by  memory;  many  a  flower  blooms 
in  the  heart  when  it  has  withered  in  the  garden. 
This  napkin  had  only  been  associated  with  sor- 
row; it  was  to  be  associated  with  joy.  It  had 
been  the  symbol  of  tears ;  it  was  to  be  the  badge 
of  victory.  It  had  been  the  mark  of  defeat,  of 
failure,  of  death;  it  was  to  be  the  sign  of 
triumph,  of  success,  of  life  for  evermore.  God 
says  of  the  vanished  years,  "  I  will  not  let  them 
go  until  you  have  blessed  them." 

Lord,  teach  me  the  solemnity  of  the  treasured 
napkin!  Teach  me  the  solemnity  of  the  truth 
that  Thou  hast  a  place  for  the  things  T  have 


296  TIMES  OK 

discarded!  How  much  that  I  have  cast  away 
as  graveclothes  has  been  treasured  by  Thee! 
How  many  things  that  I  have  thrown  as  rub- 
bish to  the  void  have  been  folded  up  and  laid 
aside  by  Thee!  Often  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
moments  I  called  waste  have  been  the  most 
fruitful  moments.  I  have  had  hours  in  the 
desert  which  appeared  to  me  useless — hours 
when  I  seemed  to  be  standing  still,  driven  into  a 
corner,  shunted  from  the  way.  And,  lo,  in  the 
light  of  future  years  I  have  looked  back,  and  the 
desert  was  a  garden!  It  had  been  the  most 
crowded  hour  of  my  life,  the  most  epoch-mak- 
ing hour,  the  hour  when  angels  ministered  unto 
me.  Help  me  to  look  reverently  on  my  dis- 
carded garments !  Even  when  I  have  outgrown 
them,  let  me  reverence  them !  Even  when  they 
seem  never  to  have  fitted  me,  let  me  reverence 
them !  Even  when  they  appear  to  have  cramped 
me,  limited  me,  confined  me,  let  me  reverence 
them!  Let  me  remember  that  in  the  light  of 
the  resurrection  morning  I  shall  see  them — see 
them  as  the  garments  of  the  universe!  Let  me 
remember  that  Thou  hast  not  outgrown  them, 


RETIREMENT 


297 


tli()U«;ii  /  have — that  they  arc  parts  of  Thy 
timc-vesturc,  and  must  be  vindicated  hv  the  per- 
fect day!  All  my  dead  things  shall  live  again 
in  Thee. 


INDEX 


Agnosticism  that  Need  Not    Decline  of  Reckless  Cour- 


Despair,  An.  197 
Alone  with  Christ.  260 
Architecture  of.  Man,  The, 

104 
Asceticism,   190 
Attractiveness     of     Christ. 

The,  35 

Be?t  Tribunal.  The,  291 
Burden    in    Heaven,    The. 
137 

Catholicity  of  Christ's  Cra- 
dle, The.  254 

Chapter  in  Inward  Biogra- 
phy,  A,   38 


age.  The.  149 
Divine   Heredity.    116 

Emancipation  from  School, 
The.  225 

Fire    Without    the    Lamb, 

The,  187 
Fir?t         Recognition         of 

Christ,  The,  53 

God's   Highest   Glory.    194 
God's  Place  for  Adversity, 

65 
Ground   of   Human    Hope, 

The.  47 
Christ's    Appropriation    of    Groun<fless    Fear    of    God, 


the  Secular.  267 
Christ's    Call    to    the    Be- 
reaved, 285 
Christian  Childhood,  273 
Christian   Enmlation,  ^^ 
Christian   Resignation.   248 
Christian   Simplicity.  83 


A,  71 

Hottest  Part  of  Life's  Fur- 
nace, The,  74 

Inadequacy    of    Mere    Sur- 
roundings, The.  216 


Congruity   between    Prayer  Instinct  and  Reason.   125 

and  its  Answer,  The.  50 

Curative  Wisdom  of  Jesus.  Joyousness    of    Piety,   The, 

The,  288  171 


299 


300 


INDEX 


Lazarus  Bound.  T28 
Lateness      of      Abraham's 

Sacrifice,  The,  184 
Latest  Voice  of  God,  The. 

231 

Marriage  of  Prayer  and 
Almsgiving.  The,  242 

Marriage  of  Prayer  and 
Joy,  The,  245 

Meeting  of  Life's  Ex- 
tremes, The,  155 

Men  who  Have  no  Work, 
The,  no 

Morning  and  the  After- 
noon, The,  203 

Pain   that   is   Divine.    The, 

134 

Paul's  Hymn  to  Love,  165 

Peaceableness  after  Purity, 
The.  143 

Peculiarity  of  Human 
Greatness,  The,  264 

Penalty  and  Pardon.  251 

Permanent  Thing,  The,  257 

Peter's  Type  of  the  En- 
during, 276 

Place  for  Religious  Re- 
search, The,  235 

Place  of  Human  Effort  in 
Religion.  The,   itq 

Postponement  of  the  Bea- 
tific Vision,  The.  44 

Prayer  for  Christ's  Sake, 
177 


Pre^rrvation       of      Waste 

Things,  The.  294 
Principle       of       Heavenly 

Rank.  The.  89 
Provinces    of    Love,    The, 

181 

Real  World,  The,  80 
Rejected     of     the     World, 

The.  200 
Relation      of     Theism      to 

Christianity,    The.    98 
Religion    and    Immortality, 

86 
Remedy    for    a    Wounded 

Heart,  The,  206 
Renewal   in   Christ,  92 
Revelation  of  Heaven  that 

Comes  from  Earth.  The, 

122 
Revelation    that    Retarded. 

The.  56 
Revelation  that  Rewarded, 

The.  59 
Road    to    a    Correct    Life, 

The,  279 

Safeguard  against  Despair, 
The,  209 

Salvation  and  Dilapida- 
tion, 158 

Sanctifying  of  Worldly 
Gifts,  The,  219 

Satan's  Choice  of  a  Local- 
ity, 68 

Secret  of  Artlessness,  270 


INDEX 


301 


Secret  of  Christian  Stoop- 
ing. The,  239 

Self-Surrender,    131 

Service  by  the  Sorrowful. 
168 

Singular  Change  of  Fash- 
ion. A,   loi 

Sinlessness  of  the  Second 
Birth.  The,  282 

Slavery  which  Glorifies. 
The,  95 

Sphere  where  Calm  is  Es- 
sential, The.  213 

Spiritual    Environment.  IT3 

Spiritual   Preservation.   62 

Strength  of  the  Heart, 
The,  41 


Summer  of  the  Soul.  174 

Test      of      Self-Emptying. 

The.  228 
Thanksgiving        for        the 

Blessed  Dead,   161 

Union  of  Sanctity  and  Lib- 
erty, The,   146 
Unreality.  152 
Unuttered  Coin,  The,  222 

Value  of  Easter  Day.  The 

140 
Veiling     of     God's     Face, 

The,  107 


Date  Due 


ApX2j4C|___ 

f) 

